Many years ago，in a beautiful and quiet village，there lived a happy family，a father，a mother and their lovely children. The happy couple had always raised cucumbers(黄瓜) and made sweet pickles(腌菜) together. The husband just loved to watch things grow. Thus he spent his winters studying the seed catalogues to get the best possible cucumbers. The whole family enjoyed preparing the soil，planting and caring for the plants. His wife loved to make sweet pickles. She studied the best recipes and the best methods of preparing and preserving them. They were such a happy family and all their visitors went home with a jar of their famous pickles. People were surprised at this family that had found a project to do together.

Finally，the man died. The next spring all the children returned home. They said to their mother, “We know how much you love making pickles，so we are going to prepare the garden and plant them for you.” The mother smiled and said，“Thanks a lot，children，but you don’t have to do any planting, for I really don’t enjoy making pickles. I did that only because your father loved to grow the cucumbers so much.” The children were all surprised，but the youngest son was upset，because the father had told him that he really didn’t like growing cucumbers，but only did it to please the mother!

Yunqing was 27 when he took the first photo while his daughter Hua Hua was just a one-year-old. At first, he didn't have any plans to make this into a tradition. But all of that changed when he actually saw the first photo and absolutely loved it.

“I didn't have any thought of doing the same thing again but when I got the photo back, I liked it so much that when we went back the next year I repeated it.”he explained.

“After that, it became sort of the family tradition and we did it every year for 40 years with only one break in 1998 when my daughter did not join us for the family holiday and was abroad,” Yunqing pointed out that there was a small gap in the photos.

Things changed quite a lot over the years. His daughter grew up into a beautiful woman and started a family of her own and that meant Yunqing became a grandpa. Hua Hua's first daughter was born in 2008 while her second daughter came into this world in 2012.

“When I started, I never guessed that I'd still be doing this when I was in my 60s and my daughter is now no longer alone, she is a mother-of-two,” he said, adding that he was pleasantly surprised by the positive reactions to the family photos online, even though he didn't expect to continue the tradition forever.

According to Lenore, an expert, traditions help families understand who they are. “We are the family that always sings this particular song, makes this particular food, gathers for this particular event, or even honors our elders－dead or alive－in this particular way. Just as religions have special holidays, activities, do’s and don'ts, so do families and they serve a similar purpose: defining and binding a group by what they share.”

At a medical laboratory clinic in Waterloo, Ontario, an elderly woman sat on the edge of a waiting room chair loudly singing out the Celine Dion’s tune My Heart Will Go On. I was there with my father, who was getting a routine blood test when the woman arrived. She settled into the seat directly across from my dad. The position made it seem as though she was sitting forward to engage in conversation with him. She smiled at him, and he smiled back.

I was concerned about how my dad would react to the possible interact on his space. He was 77 at the time and had been living with Alzheimer’s for several years. He was a brilliant introverted man. When he was healthy, he considered it wholly bad manners to bring undue attention to oneself. I couldn’t help but think that this melodic little woman was playing with fire.

Her singing began gently, like a quiet hum. I glanced over at dad. His smile was gone, and he was staring right at her. She was staring back. I couldn’t read his expression, but it seemed to be something like confusion.This wasn’t an unusual state for him, and I wondered whether he was actually seeing her at all or if he was lost somewhere deep in his mind, not really aware of her presence at that point. Or maybe he was trying to establish whether this was someone he should know. Her singing slowly got louder. By the time she got to the chorus — “Near, far, wherever you are…”, dad looked a little shocked. Still, I watched for any sign of an annoyed outburst. Instead, his face softened, and the tension eased in his brow. He no longer looked confused.

People say that Alzheimer’s is a thief, which it steals your loved ones slowly, day by day. There is so much heartbreaking truth in that statement. But certain experiences with my dad have allowed me to see a side of him that I never knew existed. In an unexpected way, that’s what happened to me that day in the clinic. When her song ended and the waiting room became silent, the woman opened her eyes. My dad was still looking directly at her. “That was beautiful,” he said. And she smiled and said, “Thank you.”