Grandpa Liu and Grandma Zhou
Grandpa Liu and Grandma Zhou have now entered their twilight years—he is 90, she is 88—time has
long carved deep and shallow marks on their faces.
They met in university in their youth, from classmates to life partners, both devoted their
lives to education. Grandpa Liu was once a chemistry teacher and later became a principal;
Grandma Zhou also taught chemistry. From classmates to colleagues, to walking hand in hand for
over sixty years, their companionship is a precious gift from time.
Five years ago, the shadow of Alzheimer's began to envelop Grandma Zhou. As the condition
worsened, her memory slowly faded, like an old painting washed by time, its colors gradually
dissipating. Sometimes at night, she would insist on getting up to go teach, firmly believing
her students were still waiting for her. In her increasingly bewildered world, her identity as a
teacher became her last anchor.
Throughout all this, Grandpa Liu has always been by her side. Even if her eyes now hold
confusion, his presence still brings her stability and trust—a silent reminder that love
sometimes outlasts memory.
"Together as Before"
This is Grandpa Liu and Grandma Zhou. Grandpa Liu has reached his nineties, with ninety
years of trials and tribulations carving deep and shallow lines on his face; Grandma Zhou is
also eighty-eight years old.
In their youth, they met at university and then embarked on the journey of education
together.
Grandpa Liu was once a chemistry teacher and even took on the important role of a middle
school principal; Grandma Zhou was also a chemistry teacher. They went from classmates to
colleagues, to lifelong companions. Over sixty years of mutual support is a precious gift
bestowed by time.
It is life silently resisting oblivion, carrying a longing and love for the world, and it is
also the unique footnote of Grandma Dai's life.
However, five years ago, Alzheimer's disease descended upon Grandma Zhou like a shadow.
As the illness progressed, her memory faded like a painting losing its color, the clarity of
the past gradually blurring.
Many nights, she often wouldn't sleep, insisting on going to teach her students. In her
mind, disturbed by the disease, the mission of teaching seemed to be the only obsession she
clung to.
Grandpa Liu, meanwhile, has always stayed by her side. Because of this companionship and
love, while Grandma Zhou's eyes show the confusion left by the disease, they also hold an
extra measure of peace and reliance.
"Writing a Melodic Love Poem"
I walked into Grandma Zhou and Grandpa Liu's room.
Grandma Zhou sat in front of the piano, her fingers moving slowly across the keys, playing old songs
from that era.
Grandpa Liu often said to me with a gentle smile, "She used to play with both hands, so lively. But
as she got older, her mind couldn't keep up, so now she plays with one hand."
Whenever Grandma Zhou played the piano, Grandpa Liu would always hum softly along or pick up the
melodica to play a melodious tune. Every note seemed to tell the story of the years they had spent
together. The simplified sheet music and lyrics pasted next to the piano were all handwritten by
Grandpa Liu. He said Grandma's eyes weren't good, so he wrote the music for her himself.
Stroke by stroke, filled with deep affection, a full four music scores, all are an outpouring of
love.
This afternoon is for flower arranging.
Grandma Zhou focused on arranging the flower branches, her eyes showing a childlike
seriousness.
Suddenly, she insistently picked up a bare branch and tried to insert it into the flower
basket. Her demeanor, with a hint of stubbornness, seemed to insist on a romance uniquely
her own.
Grandpa Liu saw this but didn't stop her at all; he just smiled slightly, his eyes full of
adoration. In his eyes, every action of Grandma Zhou is the most adorable aspect of life.
On the desk, rice paper was spread out, like a plain scroll waiting to be engraved by time. Grandpa
Liu's hands, though already marked by the lines of age, were still steady and strong. He dipped the
brush in ink and wrote calmly on the paper.
Grandma Zhou also focused on the rice paper before her. Her brushstrokes, though not as fluid as in
the past, were full of deep feeling for calligraphy. She wrote stroke by stroke, seriously, as if
pouring her thoughts and emotions into each Chinese character.
Around them, the scent of ink filled the air, intertwining with the smell of time.
Grandpa Liu and Grandma Zhou making dragon lantern crafts to welcome the New Year
Illness steals memories, dreams turn to sand,
Thin frames overlap, reflecting the setting sun's glow.
Years of frost and cold, yet feelings remain unchanged,
The warmth within our palms is home.
