2004年7月24日,是我父亲邹韬奋逝世60周年的纪念日。 60年前的清晨,上海医院的一间病室里,寂静无声,只听见妈妈低低的哭泣声。父亲静静地躺在床上,嘴在颤颤的抖动,似乎还有话要说,但已经发不出声音了。妈妈递上一支笔和一个练习本,父亲用仅有的,最后的一点力气,颤抖地 July 24, 2004 is the anniversary of the death of my father, Zou Taofen. In the early morning 60 years ago, in a sick ward of a Shanghai hospital, he was silent and only heard the mother crying low. Father quietly lying in bed, his mouth trembled in jitter, it seems there is something to say, but no sound has been made. Mom handed a pen and a practice book, his father with only the last a little effort, trembling