I decided to write a song called “Swallow and Girl” a long time ago. The girl portrays my wife, and the swallow refers to her aunt (her name is “燕” means swallow) who passed away last year. This song is a requiem for our aunt in heaven.
Our aunt was like a second mother to my wife. She was also very kind to me when she was alive. Even after she was bedridden, she used to say that when she got better, she would take our daughters to the park to play with them. But sadly, her wish never came true.
Late in the night before her death, our house's intercom suddenly rang. I went to the door, wondering who was visiting at this time at night, but there was no one there. At the time, I figured that it might be a malfunction, but now I think it was the aunt coming to visit my wife one last time.
I wondered where she went after she rang the intercom. I imagine her to be soaring through the air with her wings, just like her name, “Swallow.” With her body so light that she can fly, I think she may have reached the stratosphere. One day my wife and I will be there. I wonder what kind of expression our aunt − who has become a wind − will wear as she greets us at the end of the firmament.