[Titanic] Rose is not shredded pork

The fragile flesh will soon decay, so chasing eternity has become the most distant and most urgent dream.They want to make the Titanic an eternity, but who knows that the more indestructible and vulnerable it looks, the more it will show its original shape under equal time and day-to-day polishing.In a flash, there are only a pile of rivets and scrap iron that have sunk in the depths of the sea; the tycoon who has turned over and over and has a luxurious mansion is finally a box of ashes or a few feet of cemetery.

Eternity is not about wealth, not about status, but about love and hope.

December 1912, 4, New York.

On the Bartley Coast of Manhattan Island, 3 people stood in the rain and silently greeted the survivors of the Titanic.

The black clouds spread evenly like ink, covering the entire sky.The wind was carrying the rain, as if looking for something, it hit the ground desperately.The flowering branches on the pier, the wet sleeves, and the half-declined flags were all trembling in the wind and rain in surprise.

Although the girl was holding an umbrella, she was still soaked through.The overflowing rainwater on the ground swept over the insteps, making it difficult to move.

She couldn't raise her head, open her eyes, or even breathe, because the water was running down her hair and cheeks, hot and cold.She stood in the rain, her eyes were foggy.

A pregnant woman with a big belly can barely hold the list.

A gray-haired couple leaned against each other in a luxury car. The woman wore her hat askew and held her husband's arm tightly. Their only son was not on the survivor list.

The carriage was desolate, a woman covered her face with a handkerchief and wept, a woman was dumbfounded, and a woman was like a stone sculpture of clay.

There was a young man standing in the mud, no matter how his friends called him, he still remained motionless.

The young girl's hands were shaking violently, and her umbrella was tottering.

Most of those who cry are the lucky ones who have been reunited with relatives, friends or loved ones.And those who seemed calm, silent, and serene, fate did not spare them.

Looking up from the bottom up, the Statue of Liberty is holding the torch high, full of hope.

Jack cleared his throat, trying to make his throat feel better.A few hard thorns got stuck in the throat, and they continued to penetrate deep, until they penetrated into the softest and most fragile place in the bottom of my heart.

Rose gripped his arm, leaning on him and giving him strength at the same time.

"Where's Ruth? Did you see Rose? A girl with short red hair?" Rufu anxiously pulled a person over and asked, and the person shook his head blankly.Rufu let him go and ran to the next person...

She passed Rose, who was covered with a coat and her back was turned to her.

Holding a black umbrella, the crew asked with a pen and paper, "Miss, may I ask your name?"

There was an indescribable expression on Rose's pale face, which was a kind of serenity and calm after experiencing great joy and sorrow.There were no tears in her eyes, no heaving of her chest, no tremor in her voice.

Jack put the coat over Rose's head, but the rain soaked her all over, leaving Rose's broken brown hair against her cheek like a crying child.

The girl turned her innocent eyes away from the torch of the Statue of Liberty and said firmly, "Dawson." Her eyes turned to the huge standing statue again, and she added, "Rose Dawson."

Rose shook her head lightly, as if throwing something that bound her into the sea.

She abandoned the cumbersome and complicated middle name of the nobility, which meant breaking with the upper class.She put Jack's surname after her name, thus confirming the relationship between the two and their future.

Suddenly Jack dropped to one knee, on the rain-soaked ground, took her cold, pale hand, and kissed her like a knight kissing a queen.

The couple who survived the catastrophe quietly left without attending the memorial service for the victims.

Prayer and Mass save the living.

And they have already been rescued by each other.

Rose's rope, knife, chocolate and quicklime save Jack, and Jack's appearance saves Rose's entire life in the future.

They checked into a hotel on Fifth Avenue in New York.

"I've decided, Jack, that instead of going to the old-fashioned Philadelphia occupied by the upper classes, we'll make our home in New York and develop a cocoa shop on Fifth Avenue!"

"Have you decided to leave Queen Rufu?"

"According to Rufu's temper, she will never recognize a girl who eloped with a poor boy as her daughter. She would like to sever ties with me, and at the same time cry to me for money."

"...What a qualified upper-class mother." Jack shrugged.

"No matter what," Rose spread out the letter, "I still have to write a letter to Ruth, send her money, and do my duty as a daughter."

"Can I observe and learn?"

"As you please, sir."

Not long after, Ruf, who was living alone in Philadelphia and crying, received a letter.

Dear Mom:

I don't know if this title is appropriate, just as I don't know how much this elopement daughter has dishonored your proud surname (of course, I don't care, because I have nothing to do with it. relationship).But no matter how much you hate the loss of reputation I brought to this family, no matter how much you want to sever the mother-daughter relationship with me, after all, you are the one who gave birth to me and raised me, at least for the sake of this, I will You must be grateful.

Although I grew up, I didn't feel the love you gave me.Maybe it's because my personality is relatively closed, and my behavior is not in line with your wishes, so that it hinders the development of mother-daughter relationship.

It is true, dear mother, I really, really want to love you.If I had been able to behave like most of the great ladies, be gentle and obedient, and marry a wealthy heir as the highest achievement in life, maybe our relationship would not be as turbulent as it is today.

I have tried, mother dear, but it will not work, I cannot do it.

Because my view of the world and my positioning of myself are incompatible with what our class requires.I always firmly believe that women should be more free to find their own place in the family and society.I tried time and time again to escape the fate of women. I didn't want to be reduced to the symbol of "mother". I only knew or forced myself to know only tenderness, consideration and humility. The rock-solid absurd reality is even more unwilling to give up on oneself.

In our time, in our class, the suppression and contempt for female instincts is unprecedented.Everything was prepared for us, but we were never asked what exactly we wanted.Not only do we have no right to the pursuit of happiness, but if we try to do so we are branded selfish and irresponsible, and we have to do everything we can to hide our love and desire for life.

Life!What a beautiful, what a broad word!There are so many possibilities in life, why do I have to follow this path?This road is covered with the corpses of women from ancient times to the present. They have flowery beauty and youth at the intersection of this road, but they are worn down into walking corpses on this road. There is no hope and no end to this road.

Seeing that I, too, will be pushed down this endless and irreversible road—perhaps you think this is the only correct road—I must escape in time.

Of course, I am well aware that rebellion is not easy, you know, how difficult it is to try to shake the perception of an entire society.

But I firmly believe that the times will eventually prove that my choice is not wrong, and my rebellion is also the result of careful consideration.

So, dear mother, forgive your daughter for being arbitrary.She must be free, she has to, even though to be free means a certain break--with family, with tradition, with friends.I would be regarded as an anomaly by upper and lower classes alike, and frowned upon by the entire circle.

It's not a big deal though, because every choice has a price, and I've borne the price of the choice, and I'm strong enough to take it.

I don't want to continue acting, I don't want to be coy, I don't want to make false polite greetings, in short, I don't want to deny a real self every moment.

Ridiculous isn't it, dear mother?

Although I haven't brought you much joy and happiness in my 17 years of life, I still don't want "money", a vulgar word that you never mention, to ruin the only remaining friendship between us. once had words.

Enclosed is a check for three thousand dollars, which I will keep sending to you.

been trying to love you

Rose Dawson

The author has something to say: Grandma passed away this morning, and finally she is no longer in pain.Thinking of my grandma sitting on the bed for several months before she died, unable to get up or lie down, she had to sit while sleeping, from a daily injection of pethidine to six injections a day, to morphine, to coma, to death...

If there is another world, I only wish that world would be free from pain.

It's just that from now on, there will be one less person in the world who loves me and treats me sincerely.

With tears in my eyes, I don't know what to say.

☆, Destined to Fame