The mother of the last snow

The topic or easily as the "mother of the last snow" more properly.
I only get along with her mother for two years and eight months in the fall for the third moved out. Youngest daughter left the house to marry. Separation of the time I said: whatever her parents to take away the things I have, all this family stuff, give me a do not give.
--- Line.
I moved out after the sheep through the village house to live. The middle of the sheep house in the village on high ground. What is the sheep house? Sheep house happened? On the next time decomposition.
Here, I only said that her mother's last.
Her mother gave birth to four sons and four women, as more daughters than sons filial, so her mother or her daughter, who lives more time. But her mother two years ago, she left this world one day, made me the second son to find a pen and paper, said that she had something to remember.
Yong-Fang was only thirteen years old, honestly waiting for him holding a pencil, "Goddess" in mind. And his queen to remember what is it? She was originally called the family property inventory: This quilt bed in someone who, in the case who felt someone, make my son write in a book, and then settle down: to give this to your mother, so she drove to write on the handlebars things are back to your home, your mother did not corrupt my things.
Son come back and tell me, where I moved half stunned speechless. Harsh and hypocritical mother told me so much and that the evaluation of tolerance, true to smash the Guinness Book of records.
Soon to meet with her mother when we heard her rap: "You do not pull staggering!"
I told her I was now too well, the others have been. So those who do not have to pull everything.
Her mother dying, IV Hall large group of different generations are waiting at her front. Clearly remember slowly to falling snow outside it, then it is a white night.
Treated her to calm happy death, the Spring's sister, said: a box of pastries, this is the legacy of Mother, go back to the second sister.
I solemnly to her mother's bedside this box cake in his arms.
Late at night, I walked on the way home.
Moonless night is dark, swirling snow is white. I thought I saw my mother, she finally took a bone dry snow, to find her husband had died thirty years.
I heard deep in the world, age is not increased, the soul does not cry. Well, they met each other but also met it? And even know each other but not tears, what do they look for the emotional vicissitudes of the three years?