去年秋天，我的母亲被诊断为晚期胃癌。每个清晨，父亲依旧和母亲一同前往晨练，那副景象让我不禁想哭。我站在窗前，看着父母并肩而行，他们的笑声回荡在空气中。

我记得，每周母亲都会精心制作馄饨给父亲解馋。父亲总是赞不绝口地说，外面哪家餐馆的馄饨都比不过母亲的手工，这些皮薄而肉嫩的馄饨让人一尝难忘。自从母亲生病后，她开始每周多包两次馄饨，而父亲也变得更加能吃了，他像饿了一年的野兽一样狼吞虎咽地吃着。

Mother would often reprimand him, saying, "You eat like you haven't had dumplings for eight hundred years! Eat slowly, don't rush!" 但我们知道，父亲这样做是因为他珍惜每一次能与她一起享用的机会，也珍惜她为他所做的一切。

尽管他们谈论过，但对于Mother's illness, they both seemed very calm. Even when Mother was taking her medication, she would smile and laugh as if it were nothing serious. Father also acted as if everything was normal, almost pretending that Mother's illness was just a common cold.

Our family life didn't change much because of Mother's illness; the atmosphere remained warm and cozy. Father continued to buy flowers for our mother every day until she passed away. The whole balcony was filled with flowers; their fragrance wafted through the air.

As Mother grew thinner but still maintained her spirits, she told us not to worry about her health but instead worry about how we would take care of Father after she was gone. She said he might pretend to be fine now but would be devastated once she left us.

The night before Mother passed away, she called me into her room and handed me a piece of paper from under her pillow with notes on how to care for Father: "Don't put chili in your cooking," "Drink a glass of cool water every morning," and so on... I felt tears streaming down my face.

On the day Mother left us, Father did not cry; instead he knelt by her bedside and said one sentence: "My dear wife...I still want you to make dumplings for me..." With a smile on her face and peace in her eyes, she closed them forever.

After burying my mother properly, father retreated into his study without speaking a word. Soon enough we heard his sobs coming from inside the room.I rushed back out again with my sister this time unable to hold back any longer either.. We knew that Dad needed some time alone...

Later that Sunday afternoon when I prepared dinner according to Mom's last wishes – making dumplings - I asked Dad if they tasted different from Mom’s own handiwork? He shook his head slightly then looked at me somberly: “It isn’t about how good or bad these are... It’s about who made them”