Evaluate a significant experience, achievement, risk you have taken, or ethical dilemma you have faced and its impact on you.
It was raining outside. My uncle and aunt were lying in two wooden caskets. Thick make-ups had changed their original appearances. They seemed to smile at me rather unnaturally. I was seized with the feeling that I didn't know who they were. We were merely strangers.
My uncle and aunt had a happy family. They managed their own hotel and worked industriously to accumulate wealth. Like other Chinese, their greatest wish was to buy a larger apartment. In the end, they realized their dream. Yet unfortunately, they had not lived in their new home for one day before the tragic car accident occurred out of the blue...
Sorrow enshrouded the gathering of the family: women in the room wailed with grief; men struggled to gulp back their tears. Mom screamed heart-rendingly when my uncle and aunt were wheeled into the cremation chamber. What on earth does the chamber look like? I kept wondering about how my uncle and aunt would vanish bit by bit in the billows of flame.
About two and a half hours later, my uncle came out. I didn't shed a tear during the ceremony. However, I couldn't help weeping right about this time. My uncle, who brought together our family at every Spring Festival, had become a heap of lifeless bones! With a gentle rub, white ashes showered down. My uncle's son put the first handful of ash in the urn and each family member followed in turn. Subsequently, the urn was sealed and placed under the sod.
"You are dust, and to dust you shall return." A text from the Bible echoed in my ears. It sounds lamentable, but we have to admit it is true---our life is ephemeral. Then, what's the purpose of life? Many of us toil and moil from morning to night; do we ultimately gain what we want?
Life is like constructing a house to some degree. Perhaps the majority of people care more about painting the outside rather than laying a solid foundation. They spare no pains to whitewash the house time and again, showing great interest in competing with others for exterior decoration, whereas another small group of people silently beat stakes into the ground, spending little time on the ornament. The first type of house is likely to be recognized and appreciated. That's why most people scramble for it. Nevertheless, these people are unaware that storm will come sooner or later. Once the storm comes, heavy rain washes away the lustrous veneer and strong wind collapses the house, but the inconspicuous one stands still. Even hundreds of years later, passers by will stop and commemorate the great architect of the substantial building.
Now it's the juncture for me to make the choice.
"Goodbye, uncle and aunt!" I took mom's hand and left the graveyard. It was still gloomy, but we all knew sun would come out soon.
It was raining outside. My uncle and aunt were lying in two wooden caskets. Thick make-ups had changed their original appearances. They seemed to smile at me rather unnaturally. I was seized with the feeling that I didn't know who they were. We were merely strangers.
My uncle and aunt had a happy family. They managed their own hotel and worked industriously to accumulate wealth. Like other Chinese, their greatest wish was to buy a larger apartment. In the end, they realized their dream. Yet unfortunately, they had not lived in their new home for one day before the tragic car accident occurred out of the blue...
Sorrow enshrouded the gathering of the family: women in the room wailed with grief; men struggled to gulp back their tears. Mom screamed heart-rendingly when my uncle and aunt were wheeled into the cremation chamber. What on earth does the chamber look like? I kept wondering about how my uncle and aunt would vanish bit by bit in the billows of flame.
About two and a half hours later, my uncle came out. I didn't shed a tear during the ceremony. However, I couldn't help weeping right about this time. My uncle, who brought together our family at every Spring Festival, had become a heap of lifeless bones! With a gentle rub, white ashes showered down. My uncle's son put the first handful of ash in the urn and each family member followed in turn. Subsequently, the urn was sealed and placed under the sod.
"You are dust, and to dust you shall return." A text from the Bible echoed in my ears. It sounds lamentable, but we have to admit it is true---our life is ephemeral. Then, what's the purpose of life? Many of us toil and moil from morning to night; do we ultimately gain what we want?
Life is like constructing a house to some degree. Perhaps the majority of people care more about painting the outside rather than laying a solid foundation. They spare no pains to whitewash the house time and again, showing great interest in competing with others for exterior decoration, whereas another small group of people silently beat stakes into the ground, spending little time on the ornament. The first type of house is likely to be recognized and appreciated. That's why most people scramble for it. Nevertheless, these people are unaware that storm will come sooner or later. Once the storm comes, heavy rain washes away the lustrous veneer and strong wind collapses the house, but the inconspicuous one stands still. Even hundreds of years later, passers by will stop and commemorate the great architect of the substantial building.
Now it's the juncture for me to make the choice.
"Goodbye, uncle and aunt!" I took mom's hand and left the graveyard. It was still gloomy, but we all knew sun would come out soon.