"To lose a child is to lose a piece of yourself."
-Dr. Burton Grebin
Ruwee Naberrie walked slowly and solemnly through the graveyard, the bouquet of flowers weighing heavily in his arms and in his heart as he caught sight of his daughter's mausoleum.
The grass was fresh from the previous night's rain just as the carvings on his daughter's burial plaque were. There, displayed was her full name and date of birth as well as the date of her death, a day that would forever haunt Ruwee for the rest of his days.
She had been far too young to die. Only twenty-seven years old when her life had been stolen from her by those he did not know. There have been conflicting reports about the nature of her death as well as that of the life of her unborn child, some claiming it was the Jedi and others said it was newly formed Empire who was responsible.
But it doesn't matter, at least not anymore that is. She is still dead no matter who was truly responsible and something tells him that they will never know how or why.
He is too broken and tired to point fingers, he just simply wants to mourn the death of his daughter.
It had only been a week since they had received the devastating news from Polis Massa medical center that their beloved Padme had perished and that her body would be delivered to them for the funeral. Ruwee had been in denial, refusing to believe that his little girl was dead. It just wasn't possible, it couldn't be possible.
Reality had set in when Ruwee had seen her for himself. Lying in her watery casket with flowers in her hair and her hands clasping the gentle swell of her belly where her child would remain for eternity, never to take its first breath or feel the sun upon its cheeks.
She had looked so peaceful and beautiful with her babe, and that's what made it unbearable to Ruwee.
Death was not supposed to be beautiful. It was supposed to be awful and ugly, the terrible truth that haunted everyone until their time was up.
But he had never seen his daughter look so peaceful except maybe when she was up at the Lake Retreat, before her she had taken on the duty of Queen and Senator. It seemed like a lifetime ago that his daughter was truly a little girl, without responsibility and a care-free attitude.
She had grown up too fast and she had died even quicker.
Ruwee walked up the steps of the mausoleum, careful not to step on the mound of flowers that the people of Naboo had left for their former Queen and Senator. They had shown up in the thousands from all over the planet to pay their respects and to console the Naberrie family. He was certain that they would never get through the stack of letters that they had received from people who had loved and respected her.
He knew they meant well, but there came a point when he just wanted the time to grieve her without other people disturbing him with their condolences.
He just wanted to grieve for his daughter in peace and quiet, something that had become a rarity ever since her death had been broadcasted to the whole planet.
He had had barely any time to stop and process his emotions in the few days since the funeral. Not when there had been funeral planning and the family get together that always seemed to happen only when a family member died.
He had not seen this much of their family before in one house and he knew that he probably would not see them again after this until another family member passed away, which he hoped would not be for a long time.
A tragedy always seemed to bring the family together. Especially a tragedy such as this.
Ruwee wiped a stray tear away as he made his way into the darkly lit room where his daughter's coffin had been lain, the symbol of Naboo proudly displayed over the top. There were, even more, flowers that had been laid across the coffin along with letters, some were so old they were starting to wilt.
Ruwee placed the flowers over the stone slab before his hand came to rest on the cold surface, where a very fine layer of dust had already begun to form. It had only been a week and already the passage of time was quite obvious, much to his dismay.
It was already quite apparent in their home that she was gone, even more so than when she had been away on Coruscant because they knew that she would never be coming back.
Ruwee and Jobal had barely spoken since the funeral and he wasn't sure how he was supposed to comfort his wife when she had become so closed off to him. He had woken up in the middle of the night to find that his wife was no longer in bed with him, her spot in the bed cold and the sheets thrown back.
He had found her in Padme's bed sobbing into the pillows as she held a holo-picture of herself and their newborn daughter in her arms. Ruwee had been the one to take the picture, smiling proudly down at his tired wife and beautiful infant daughter. He could have never imagined then that this moment would ever come, that there would come a time when he could no longer hold his daughter in his arms.
She was gone forever, never to be held in his arms ever again.
He looked over at the far wall where her stain glass effigy was displayed, her brown eyes staring down at him sadly as though she could feel his pain.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered up at the effigy. "It was never supposed to be like this."
She said nothing.
The stillness spoke for her.