On this day last year, you were shivering in the morning, oxygen saturation was dropping, I said call 120 and you said, "No, it's time to go." "I said no, and after all my persuasion, you finally agreed. While waiting, you always hold your mom's hand tightly and turn your head to her side. Mom calls you hard, pinching your people, and you don't respond. I'm scrambling to take your blood pressure, but it always stops. An hour and a half later, the ambulance came and the doctor said you were gone. You walk so fast, so peaceful, your mother's hand has been holding you, you should be lonely and walk with confidence. It's just that you, who have loved the excitement all your life, lacked a lively memorial service at that particular time, and lacked so many relatives, friends, and students to see you off.
Today, it is the anniversary of your death, your family has already been reunited, your students have come to worship in their busy schedules, and your self-deprecating poem (last words) written in 2019 has been revisited by your family many times, we will remember your entrustment, unite and love, respect the old and love the young, help each other, and live well. I will never forget your teachings.
If the prime minister can hold the boat in his belly, good people will have good retribution.
The chopsticks are difficult to break, and the six peach blossoms are red.
It is difficult to calculate the loss, and the amount of gas should be generous.
When you are illiterate, you have food, and when you are illiterate, you can suffer.
People are watching when they are doing, and there is retribution for whether it is good or bad.
We miss you!