Jag vill leva. Jag måste leva. Jag ska leva.
SWEDISHA/N: The world lost somebody of great importance, a human with a heart and courage beyond measures, I know this because I knew him and I cried for him. I dedicate this piece to this world's fallen hero; it pains me to write these words but I had to write.
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White Tulips
By: Lumos Maximum
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What if Harry left us a little too early?
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You bought him white tulips. White because it means forgiveness and you are so sorry. The white tells him, 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry that you had to go' and you hope and pray that he hears you. That he, who left too early, stayed just enough to hear you and all the others that had words left for him. You never knew him, not really or not enough because how could you say that you knew somebody enough when their time has been limited? Therefore you try to be brave for those who cry; those on the front row during the grieving who cries after their hero, those in the back who cries because of the tragedy. But a few smiled, or tried to do, those who knew that he wished nothing more than a smile. You choose to be one of them as you watch up towards the cloudless but cold gray sky; you smile, convincing yourself that you never knew him enough to morn or not enough to feel unaffected but just enough to feel the never-ending sunshine he spread around him and you choose to remember him by it. His courage inspired you and saved you but you weren't the only one you realized, there were so many around you who smiled behind their tears too, there were so many that he saved, touched, moved and encouraged to be something beyond anything on this earth. Simply by saying 'hello'. . .
"Long live the hero," someone from the back chants with an agonized voice. "Long live our hero."
That's when you realize, you've tried to smile because you're afraid of crying, the rest cries because they feel unworthy of a smile. It's when you step towards the memorial stone, seeing his name carved into stone above two dates, one for when he arrived to the earth and the other when he was forced to leave, that it hits you. The lump in your throat grows heavy and suppressed tears find their way out, salty and stingy. Carefully you place your delicate flowers among all the others. A thousand of deep red roses and bouquets of deep blue surrounds your collection of small white tulips but behind your many tears and few cherished memories you couldn't care less. You bought him white tulips, white because they mean 'I'm sorry' and tulips because they are beautiful and so was he.
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Rest in peace, Robin.
1991-06-10 - 2010-02-06