We didn't talk much about how we felt when our fathers died; we could tell from our faces. Instead we talked about our fathers' lives. Wheat they were like. Who they were. If we'd had pictures, we would have shared them. But none of us had a photo, not even in our rooms, it being generally accepted that such a thing was too much of a reminder of a life more bright and normal than the one we now lived.
请不要用机器翻译哦,谢谢!对满意的答案我将给予积分致谢。