(Clearwisdom.net) In April 1989, my brother went to Beijing with his military unit as part of the crackdown on student democracy demonstrations. He witnessed and participated in the Tiananmen Square Massacre under orders from the Chinese Communist Party (CCP). At the end of 1989, he retired from the military.
He returned home just before the Chinese New Year of 1990. But on that day, there were no flowers, no wine, and no welcoming people on the street. He only received resentful glares from people. My father, younger sister and brother ignored him as though he were a stranger. Only mother went out to receive him. In the past, whenever he came home for vacation, our house would be packed with people. But this time, the Village Communist Party Secretary was the only person who came to see him.
It was deadly quiet when he stepped through the door. I was a college student at that time, and I was first to break the silence. I said, "Brother, you dare to aim your gun at your brothers and sisters. You are really a killer!"
Then my father blasted off, "We spent so much effort to raise you, the 'people's soldier,' but you pointed your gun at the people who helped you. You are not a man at all."
The whole family blamed him with anger. Only mother asked us to stop. She said with tears, "Don't say it any more. Your brother was forced to do it ..."
My brother ran into his room and cried. Since that day, we never saw him smile, and he became almost semi-mute. When he met people, he would chat very briefly then become silent. Every day after he came home after work, he just drank, and drank, and drank.
Mother gradually persuaded us to try to understand him instead of shunning him. But we never forgave him for being a killer.
My brother had no one to talk to about his pain, and no one would tried to understand him either. After several unsuccessful suicide attempts, he wanted to become a monk. He went to temples several times, but each time he came back disappointed.
Falun Dafa was spread to our family in 1995, while my brother was still struggling. My brother had the good fortune to become a practitioner. Since then, he studied Zhuan Falun again and again, like a rice shoot thirsty for water. Gradually, he quit smoking and drinking and began his life anew. There was a smile on his face again and laughter and singing returned to our home during family reunions.
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