文｜晓芳 Xiaofang
我没有见过他。
I never met him.
但在我出生的时候，他送给我40元钱。
But when I was born, he sent me forty yuan.
那是1963年，一个婴儿刚刚降生，一个国家正处在建设与磨砺中。他的这份祝福，没有语言，却一直守护着我。
It was 1963. I was a newborn, and our country was still being shaped through hardship and hope. His blessing came without words—and yet, it has watched over me ever since.
我听家人讲起他如何待人、如何工作，常常彻夜不眠地为国家操劳。
I would hear stories from my family—how he worked tirelessly, through many sleepless nights, for the people and the nation.
他的沉默，不是空白，而是一种更深层的讲道。
His silence was not emptiness. It was a deeper kind of teaching.
他不是用语言塑造我们，而是用他的一生传递信念。
He didn’t shape us with words, but with the quiet faith of his entire life.
那40元，或许只是一个数目，但它包含的，是一种无声的爱，一种信任。
That forty yuan may have been a sum of money, but it carried a silent love—a profound trust.
在我后来许多人生选择中，我都感觉到那份沉默的力量：它不催促、不干预，只在身后托举你向上。
In so many of my life’s moments, I have felt that silent strength—never pushing, never interfering, only lifting me gently from behind.
今天这个世界充满声音，却缺少倾听；我们说得多，感得少。
Today, our world is full of noise, but short on listening; we speak much, but feel little.
我想讲述这份沉默，是希望我们能再次相信——
I share this silence, in hopes that we may once again believe—
真正的力量，是一种不说出口的温柔。
True strength is a gentleness that speaks without words.
结语 | In Closing
我没有见过他。
I never met him.
但他的爱，至今在我心中生长。
But his love still lives and grows within me.
我愿把这份沉默的讲道，继续讲下去。
And I hope to pass this sermon of silence on—to you.
