Empty House, Abandoned Farm - Father-in-law's Farm

An unusual still life in the attic—flowers in a mirror, moon in water—life is within it. A Taiwanese proverb says: "Where there are people, there is affection; where people perish, affection perishes." Life is realistic and helpless. Who does existence serve? What is the meaning of existence? Why exist? The ultimate goal of living is to live; existence is for existence itself. All illusions of life are like dreams, but in the end, is it all emptiness? As the idiom states, "Flowers in a mirror, the moon in water, pure life is like a dream." Good dreams or bad dreams are all dreams; good lives or bad lives are all lives.

In this world, chasing shadows, succeeding or failing, being carried away by success, experiencing romance and snow, existence is about existing well. All self-made actions are existence. All learning, all efforts, all successes and failures, all illnesses, all experiences and insights—tangible and intangible combined—are life. What does not belong to life? Even death belongs to existence; it is life's highest experience and most sacred praise. The praise of life is purely one's own; no one can replace it, no one can imagine its mysteries. Even the mystery of life is purely personal; death swallows everything. Memories fade, family assets become inheritance, children naturally inherit, elders' lives become memories, quickly forgotten in real life, gradually swallowed by time without a trace. Existence is for the individual; existence seems purely personal. Death takes existence into nothingness, disappearing into a memory maze that must be imagined.

Last year, when I returned to Taiwan, my father-in-law passed away at 86. I have few memories of him; rarely did we meet. I remember the family gathering two years ago when my third uncle remarried in Touraine; otherwise, opportunities to see him were rare. He loved his rural life, living alone in Ligueil, a remote small farm where he was born and raised, surrounded by unique natural beauty resembling Florence, Italy. He never left the family farm throughout his life. This traditional French large farm (a 16th-century building) features a three-wing courtyard layout, housing groups, stables and tool sheds, storage and livestock buildings, an apple orchard behind, a chicken coop and beekeeping area, several century-old walnut trees, and over forty hectares of arable land.

In my memory, the spacious living room once displayed two eye-catching intricately carved Renaissance-style cabinets. The old kitchen had no refrigerator or hot water; tables were piled with apples, bowls, plates, and wine bottles. Rooms and attics were full of clutter, somewhat messy. Unimaginably, there were no bathroom facilities. This is a portrait of an old farmer living alone in a remote countryside, feeling isolated from the world, depicting a lonely late-life situation.

Children only learned of their father's passing through notifications from distant neighbors. A simple yet solemn funeral took place, and he was buried in the family cemetery. Only then did the eight siblings gather, presenting another aspect of modern life. Is it so difficult for siblings to reunite? Opportunities are rare. Today, it seems family members only gather at weddings and funerals. If there are hidden family worries, reunion becomes even more difficult.

After the burial, the siblings immediately began inheriting property, sorting belongings, and liquidating all assets left by the father. Fortunately, legal division proceeded smoothly; unfortunately, siblings might tear off their masks, leading to unimaginable situations. The father's personal memories were cleared out completely. Resources available for distribution disappeared within a week. Real estate and farmland must be handled within six months of the deceased's passing, entrusted to local notaries. Thus, the father-in-law's typical farm became empty after his death. Sentimentality is useless. Where there are people, there is affection; where people perish, affection perishes. Life is so realistic. Life has continued and expanded onto the new generation. Life's duty is complete. Life is indeed "flowers in a mirror, the moon in water, pure life is like a dream." Who knows spring dreams? The sun continues to rise from the east; the sunset remains infinitely beautiful, though near dusk. Life remembers its best moments, and that passes. Even if forgotten, it doesn't matter, because existence itself is merely consciousness.