Ghosts and Echoes

I loved her. I can say it now, now when it doesn't matter. She's been gone a long, long time, and still, sometimes, I wake up in the middle of the night only to find that she's not there. She took the best parts of me and made them stronger. She was beauty, and power.

I went to see her every year at the same time – her favorite time, in the spring when life was blooming. At her tombstone, someone had planted red flowers. It wasn't me. I think maybe it was one of the children.

I managed to get myself down into a sitting position before the grave with only a minimum of aches and pains. I was tired, and the soft grass was welcome.

Like I always did, I told her everything. I told her what the young ones had been up to, and who was gone now, and all the things I should have said to her years ago.

I felt a presence behind me. I knew who it was without looking. "Valek, I thought you wanted to wait with the speeder."

He came around and crouched next to me. "Master? Are you all right?" He was grown up now, a full Jedi in his own right. The title was his idea of a joke, I think.

"I'm fine. And how many times do I have to tell you not to call me that."

I could see the hints of a tell-tale smirk on his lips beneath the hints of a beard he was trying to grow. "Sorry, Dad."

"No, you're not." I tried to get up on my own, not wanting him to see how tired I was.

He reached down and clasped my hand, pulling me effortlessly to my feet. We stood there for a moment, side by side, gazing down at her grave. My lover. His mother.

I turned to look at him. He had more of my looks than hers, with his unkempt brown hair and eyes. He was his father's son, after all.

"I miss her too," he said quietly, meeting my gaze.

"Yeah, well, don't tell her that or you'll never hear the end of it."

He chuckled obediently. It was an old joke, one we'd shared long ago, when we had all been together.

"We should head back," he said.

"I know. I'll be along in a minute."

He put a gentle pressure on my shoulder, then turned to go.

I know that the Jedi shouldn't live in the past or mourn or become too attached, but there's a difference between letting the past rule you, and accepting what it means to you. The past is what makes us who we are in the present. I know I wouldn't have been the same under a different set of circumstances. Neither would she. And I – I wouldn't have been the same without her. We are what life makes of us, after all. Life, and the Force.

They said she died bravely, protecting people. I felt it echo through the Force, and through the bonds that held us all together. I always wished I could have been there when she died, that I could have told her how I felt, and held her in my arms. But it's pointless to live a life full of "might have been" and "if only". That's what she taught me.

I stepped closer, and touched the top of the stone marker. Her translucent hand settled atop mine, shimmering with the power of the Force.

"He turned out well."

I snorted. "Hey, don't look at me. It was all your influence."

Her laugh was so beautiful that I had to close my eyes. I could almost feel her hand, if I concentrated hard enough. I leaned a little on the stone. "I think I'll be joining you soon."

"I know." A wisp of breeze across my face, or maybe a kiss on the cheek. "Go on, Atton. They need someone to kick up fresh arguments on the council. I'll be waiting for you next year."

"I'll be here." I opened my eyes. She had already vanished. I stepped away from the tombstone and headed back toward the speeder.

I heard her voice echo inside my mind, and inside the Force.

"Goodbye, love."