Holding tightly to his grandfather's hand, the five-year old wiped away his tears; exploring on his own hadn't been as much fun as he had thought it would be. The old farmer looked down at his grandson with a warm smile, "You were scared out there, weren't you, Jack?" The boy nodded and hiccuped. "...it wus scary bein alone in the dark..." he admitted quietly. The grandfather laughed softly, "But you weren't alone, were you? The Goddess was there, watching over you." Rubbing his nose on his sleeve, Jack nodded slowly. "Yeah...but I'm glad you found me gram'pa." His grandfather chuckled again, "I am too, Jack. Now, what do you say to a big mug of hot cocoa when we get back?" Perking up instantly, Jack grinned and nodded excitedly, "Yeah! And, and I want lots'a whipped cream on mine!"
"Only if you promise to eat and drink it all."
"Oh I will, I will!"
Their cheerful voices drifted on the night air, and as they came in view of his grandfather's farm, Jack prayed that he could spend every summer there...forever.
"He's gone...it all happened so fast..."
Jack barely glanced at the carpenter who had spoken, not having it in him to agree or join in on the conversation. He was only there at the reception out of formality; he hadn't been back to Mineral Town since he was a small boy. '...not at all the reunion I had been hoping for...' For nearly fifteen years, he had been dreaming of when he would get to go back to see his grandpa. But now, as he gazed at the group of strangers mourning the old man, he wished he had never come.
"...yeah...so his farm...no longer..."
The farm. Jack's sanctuary from the constant noise of the city. His garden of Eden. It used to be a lush, cheerful place, full of crops and contented animals. He had loved helping harvest the tomatoes and eggs. Even when he dropped a few his grandpa would only laugh and still let him hold the basket. Thinking about it used to bring a smile to his face. But after seeing what it had become, it only made his heart ache. '...Rose Ranch has become nothing more than a weed patch...' Sucking in tears, he started moving forward into the group of villagers, hoping that if he kept moving he wouldn't cry.
"Hey, have another drink! This should be a joyful send off!"
"That's right. It's no good to be depressed!"
Hearing the older woman's boisterous laugh, Jack paused, looking over at her; she and the bald man next to her were familiar to the young man. In fact, everyone who sat around on the blankets was familiar, though he couldn't remember any of their names. Watching the woman toss a thick braid over her shoulder, he thought about sitting beside her, and joining in on her happy send off of his grandfather. But Jack knew he couldn't; he was barely able to keep himself from breaking down, so how could he sit there laughing with them?
Maneuvering through the crowd, he nodded to those who waved and muttered thanks to those who sent out their condolences. What else could he say? Though he wasn't doing much, he felt the little bit of energy that he had draining from him. Even if he had met all of these people before, they were just strangers to him now, people he had once seen before in a dream. 'Grandpa...why did you have to leave me like this...?' Spotting a stocky man in a red suit off to the side, Jack hesitated. He was ready to leave and get away from these people who were only hazy shapes to him now. '...I think that's the mayor...it would be rude not to say anything to him...' His grandpa had always stressed how important being polite was, making it impossible for Jack to simply walk away without saying anything. Sighing deeply, he said a silent prayer to the Goddess to help him get over to the tiny man without collapsing. Slowly making his way towards the mayor, he noticed that the poor man's face was streaked with tears; he was crying more than anyone else there. Stopping in front of him, Jack smiled weakly, allowing the sobbing man to blow his nose into a sopping, blue handkerchief.
Looking up, the mayor noticed Jack and did his best to get ahold of himself. "...a-ah...you must be...be Jack...the grandson?" Jack nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak. 'Just watching him cry is making me choke up...' Wiping his tears, the mayor nodded as well, "Yes...yes, of course...you look like a...a younger version of your grandpa! Oh...oh what a great man...he was...!" A new wave of tears coming, he sobbed loudly into the handkerchief. Shifting uncomfortably, Jack knew he couldn't bare much more of this; if the mayor couldn't get ahold of himself, Jack would be needing a hanky too. Fortunately, the stocky town leader was able to calm down enough to nod his head sympathetically, and pat Jack's shoulder in some semblance of comfort. Bowing slightly, Jack mumbled a thank you before hurrying out of the town square. He almost didn't make it to the stairs before he burst into tears.
Gazing up at the pink petaled trees that lined the square, an old gentleman with a thin mustache sipped his drink. His eyes watered up as he sighed quietly, "Spring is beautiful with the cherry blossoms..." But now, as he watched the grandson of his dear friend disappear down the stairs in a fit of grief, he found the words to be a hollow sentiment.
Stumbling down into the main part of town, Jack did everything he could to keep his sobs silent; the last thing he wanted was someone chasing after him and trying to help. These people didn't know him, and he didn't know them. Even if they had lived around his grandfather, they couldn't bring him comfort. At least not now, when all he could feel was the raw wound of losing a person he loved more than anyone else in this world. Making his way to the side of a building, he fell onto his knees, praying that no one would find him. He didn't even know what he was hiding behind, not that it mattered much. All of his thoughts were focused on his grandfather's face; leathery from years of working out in the sun, how it crinkled in all the right places because of how much he smiled, and that scraggly mustache that he had loved to tug at as a child. That was what he wanted to remember, not the image that had seared it's self over it. No, as he cried into his hands, Jack could only see how old, and drained his grandfather had looked by the time he had arrived; how he gritted his teeth in pain almost constantly, seeming to wash away all of his smiles instantly; and how he had seemed to be just a shell of the man he once was, barely able to whisper his final words to Jack. This memory brought on a hot new batch of tears as Jack fell on his side, curling up into himself. 'Why...why did you ask...ask for ME?...how could you...you make me go through this...THIS! How...?'
Feeling beyond hope, scared, and utterly alone, Jack was five years old once more, crying in the woods, waiting for his grandfather to find him. But this time, he wouldn't come. The lopsided grin, half hidden by a silver mustache, that Jack loved seeing had already started fading from his memory. There would be no footsteps coming to his rescue. No worried call of his name. No large, engulfing hand to guide him home. He was lost, without anyone to search for him. Half heartedly he sobbed into his hands, "...d...damn you...grandpa...damn...you..."