When I try to imagine someone's life, even if I only know a part of it, I tend to extract representative parts from this small part, connect them, and confirm each other, thus forming an impression of their life.
But not including my grandfather. I only know that he was a soldier, raised chickens and ducks, all of which died. When he was old, he would let the saleswoman of health products come to our house to provide services when my parents were not at home. He was proud of my calligraphy when I was young. He would cheat when playing chess with me. He would secretly go to KFC to eat hamburgers. He would get angry when I said he was born in the Year of the Dog. He would stand in front of me with open arms to stop my mom when she wanted to hit me. Some of these things are related to me, some are not. Some are significant in his life, while others are accidental stains on the paper. I seem to have never tried to connect these things about him, so now, when I miss him, I don't even know what kind of person I am missing. I think he is the person who loves me the most in the world, but this is not a part of his character, and I don't really understand him.
Is it a kind of sadness to not truly understand? It depends on what it means to understand. If understanding is a summary statement, a self-proclaimed experience, I hope this will never happen. If understanding is a fleeting feeling, and these feelings gradually settle down, so that there is only tranquility when two people are together, then it should be very happy.
I am a very practical person, but I believe in friendship with the deceased, friendship with imaginary companions, and so on. Maybe it's because no one will ask what the next section of the story is.
I suspect that the motivation to connect the dots is partly driven by self-interest, partly by maintaining a sense of moral goodness, and partly by our compulsions. There should be some better reasons, such as curiosity, such as I really want to see/hear/read about him again, this pure desire.
Recently, at the entrance of the church with purple and green glass doors at school, I had a slightly sad conversation with three classmates. The campus is so beautiful, even sadness reflects a colorful and light glow.
I want to do something.