my brother

The terrible cancer ended his life at the age of 68, the age when he had just paid off his debt to his family and children, hoping to have a few years of leisure to enjoy his old age. His dreams were countless, such as taking care of the garden, digging a pond to raise fish, building a thatched hut, so that in the afternoon his brothers, friends, grandchildren, would come to play and relax.

The fruit trees he planted in the garden have already borne fruit, the first ones just starting to sprout and spread their leaves. This year’s cashew nut season seems to have been without him, so the fruit is not as plentiful as when he was alive. The cherry pond and the fish have grown big now, but the scenery looks so desolate and sad!

In the afternoon, I visited him and lit three incense sticks to make the altar more warm and smoky. I looked at the plate of mangoes she had just picked from the garden to offer him. They were his. Come back and taste the first fruit of the season you planted. Was it sweet or sour?!

The afternoon turned to rain, the sky was cloudy, the gloomy wind blew coldly all around. The stone table under the plum tree, where my brothers and I and our friends from the neighborhood often sat and chatted, was now empty, with only dry plum leaves and a black cat curled up in a corner.

Brothers miss you, friends miss you, neighbors miss you. I miss the name Bay Den, every time he was tipsy, it was “Tinh em xu Quang”. I miss the bag of boiled corn you brought from home to Doi Duong to give to your friends to eat on the day of class reunion. I miss the late Tet holidays at Dinh River, I miss the fish braised with turmeric, I miss the pickled melon you made. I miss the roasted peanuts you brought on the bus from Binh Thuan, sitting and chewing all the way to Quang Nam and still not finished.

He had little education, but he had many talents. Seeing people weaving baskets, he could weave them after just a few glances. Seeing artists drawing portraits, he bought paper, rulers, and ink to draw just like a real artist. He could sew trousers, shirts, and even embroider. He was also very good at writing prose and speaking.

But it was just for fun, nothing professional. His main job was farming, a real farmer without any mix. He raised 6 children from young to adulthood, and raised them during the subsidy period, a time when the economy was very difficult, raised them with a hoe, a flock of free-range chickens, a few pigs and potatoes, corn, beans, cashews... now all 6 of them have their own families, a stable life.

Speaking of his hardships in raising children, I still remember two stories that he used to tell me when he was a little drunk. The stories were no less than Ngo Tat To's Chi Dau period.

Around 1978 - 1979, when his family was still in the new economic zone of Ta Pao in Huy Khiem commune, Tanh Linh district, Thuan Hai province (now Binh Thuan ). This was a new economic zone established in 1976, most of the people who came to settle down were from Quang Nam and Quang Tri. During the subsidy period, they worked in cooperatives, with equal pay and grading, newly opened wasteland, and blocked rivers and markets, so diseases and hunger were constant, especially during the harvest season and traditional New Year.

He said that year, his family had 5 mouths to feed. On the 24th of Tet, the family had no rice or sweet potatoes left. His wife had to borrow money from the neighborhood, but it was only enough to get by. In fact, everyone in the family was in need and suffering, so there was no surplus to lend. Well, it was okay to endure and make do with it. But looking at the children, all of their clothes were tattered, it was heartbreaking. On the 25th of Tet, the couple sat with their knees propped up, thinking of something to sell to buy their children new clothes so they could have fun during Tet with their friends.

Thinking back and forth, he decided to take his old trousers, the green khaki trousers he wore when he was in high school before liberation. Later, he got married, went to the new economic zone, and spent all day rolling around in the fields. The trousers became a souvenir lying quietly in the corner of the wardrobe. The trousers had cracks at the buttocks, but because he rarely wore them, they didn't look too bad. He cut off two pant legs, removed the thread, turned them inside out, and oh my, they were still brand new. He lit the lamp, diligently measured, cut, and sat diligently sewing until morning. So, Ý Anh had "new" trousers this Tet, so happy, one less worry!

As for the two daughters' clothes, he discussed with his wife about bringing the dog to Phuong Lam to sell for money, and if there was any left over, they could buy candy to make the children happy.

There was no other way, I felt sorry for the "wild" dog that had been loyal to the family for so many years, but I had to give up!

At dawn on the 27th of Tet, he called the dog to feed, petted it for the last time, then hugged the dog and put it in a cage, tied it to the back of his old bicycle. The road from Ta Pao to Phuong Lam was far away, the weather was near Tet and the mountain road was deserted, he bent his back and pedaled, trying to get to Phuong Lam in time while there were still buyers. The noon sun was hot, sweat was pouring, just past Duc Linh, he suddenly felt cold. What he did not think of was that on the other side of the border, a checkpoint appeared, "red tape" men looming. He knew that if he carried the dog through the checkpoint, it would definitely be confiscated or taxed, and if so, what would he have to buy for Tet for his children. Should he carry the dog back? After thinking for a long time, he exclaimed: - How stupid, the dog is my dog, let it go, here far from home it will definitely have to follow me. Thinking is doing, he parked the bike, took the cage down, untied the rope, let the dog out, rolled a cigarette, puffed on it, and leisurely carried the cage without passing the station, the dog wagging its tail and running after him.

With a miraculous escape, he cycled far away from the station, then parked the bike on the side of the road waiting for the dog to come. The dog was happy with its owner, its tail tucked in, its head buried in its owner's lap. At this point, the feeling of joy at its escape was almost gone, replaced by remorse and indescribable sadness. He shed tears, caressed the dog, and gently put it in the cage like at dawn at home. On the way to Phuong Lam market, he was like a lost soul, feeling sorry for his two children with tattered clothes, and for the dog that had been his loyal friend for so many years. It wasn't until someone came to pay for the dog that he decided to sell it immediately, to sell it to end it, to end this heartbreaking scene. The person who bought the dog drove the dog away, the dog looked at him, he looked at the dog, both the person and the animal had salty tears in their eyes.

That year, my children got new clothes and some candy. As for me, I carried sadness until the day I closed my eyes!

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