So Hard To Say Goodbye
With trembling hands I take the Red Book. Tears course down my cheeks. I feel the weight of the responsibility to keep alive our sacred history being thrust upon me. Yet all I care about is the fact that he is leaving me. I lost my mother a few short weeks ago and now I'm losing my father. "Why can't you stay?" That is all I am able to speak my heart being so rung with this new grief piled upon my old.
My father smiles at me. It's a sad sort of smile and yet that small spark in his eyes belies the sadness. I know he figured that all his children and grandchildren would understand, especially me. Hadn't we all heard the stories? He reasons that should be enough for us to understand. My memory of his master is faint and whispery. My father is real, concrete, and I dread the loss of him to something that is little more than a dream to me.
"He is waiting for me," he simply says.
But it's what he doesn't say that is more important. My father has been waiting too. He's been waiting for his chance to sail to the Uttermost West. He loves the Shire, he loves his family and friends but a part of his heart sailed west many, many years ago. His thoughts have constantly turned in that direction.
I refuse to understand this. I can't help being manipulative and selfish for this moment. My father has done so much for his master and for the Shire. All my life I knew this day would come but I had hoped he would forget all this foolishness. I hoped he would stay and enjoy the Shire, and all that he had worked so hard to achieve, to the end of his days. "Don't you love us?" I try to hold back a sob. "Don't you want to stay with us? Don't you want to be surrounded by your children and your children's children?"
My father sighs and I instantly regret my words. My father has done so much for us, for me, and I should be happy that he stayed with us so long and didn't choose to pass into the West all those years ago. Now that he wants to who am I to stand in his way? I realize that going to the West will make him happy. Isn't that what I should want? I know he loves us and is sad to part with us. We have been blessed to have him for so long. I know he has been torn in two and still will be so once he leaves. But at least in the West he will be able to fill a void in his heart. It is more than devotion that calls him that way; it is simply love.
My father opens his mouth to speak, to try and make me understand, but no words come out. He has never been good at expressing his feelings. He is a hobbit more fit for action as his expression than for words.
I reach out and pull him into a hug. He accepts that as my apology and yet still I can't help whispering. "I'm so sorry, Dad. I know you love us. I know you have to go. It's just that I am going to miss you."
"And I you," he says. I can feel some wetness on my shoulder. "I love you all so much."
Finally after a long while he releases me. Tears are shining in both our eyes. Fear clutches at my heart for a moment. I know once he has gone there is no coming back. "Are you sure he is there? Are you sure he's not gone?" Even I can't bring myself to say that his master might be dead and that this journey may be all for naught. It would break his heart.
He just smiles at me with this light in his eyes that comes when he talks about his master. "He's waiting for me. I know it."
My heart knows it too. I can't help smiling in spite of wanting to cry. He will be so happy to rejoin his master. He deserves to be happy. They both do. "Don't worry, Dad. I'll keep the Red Book alive."
"I know you will, Elanor. I know you will."
With trembling hands I take the Red Book. Tears course down my cheeks. I feel the weight of the responsibility to keep alive our sacred history being thrust upon me. Yet all I care about is the fact that he is leaving me. I lost my mother a few short weeks ago and now I'm losing my father. "Why can't you stay?" That is all I am able to speak my heart being so rung with this new grief piled upon my old.
My father smiles at me. It's a sad sort of smile and yet that small spark in his eyes belies the sadness. I know he figured that all his children and grandchildren would understand, especially me. Hadn't we all heard the stories? He reasons that should be enough for us to understand. My memory of his master is faint and whispery. My father is real, concrete, and I dread the loss of him to something that is little more than a dream to me.
"He is waiting for me," he simply says.
But it's what he doesn't say that is more important. My father has been waiting too. He's been waiting for his chance to sail to the Uttermost West. He loves the Shire, he loves his family and friends but a part of his heart sailed west many, many years ago. His thoughts have constantly turned in that direction.
I refuse to understand this. I can't help being manipulative and selfish for this moment. My father has done so much for his master and for the Shire. All my life I knew this day would come but I had hoped he would forget all this foolishness. I hoped he would stay and enjoy the Shire, and all that he had worked so hard to achieve, to the end of his days. "Don't you love us?" I try to hold back a sob. "Don't you want to stay with us? Don't you want to be surrounded by your children and your children's children?"
My father sighs and I instantly regret my words. My father has done so much for us, for me, and I should be happy that he stayed with us so long and didn't choose to pass into the West all those years ago. Now that he wants to who am I to stand in his way? I realize that going to the West will make him happy. Isn't that what I should want? I know he loves us and is sad to part with us. We have been blessed to have him for so long. I know he has been torn in two and still will be so once he leaves. But at least in the West he will be able to fill a void in his heart. It is more than devotion that calls him that way; it is simply love.
My father opens his mouth to speak, to try and make me understand, but no words come out. He has never been good at expressing his feelings. He is a hobbit more fit for action as his expression than for words.
I reach out and pull him into a hug. He accepts that as my apology and yet still I can't help whispering. "I'm so sorry, Dad. I know you love us. I know you have to go. It's just that I am going to miss you."
"And I you," he says. I can feel some wetness on my shoulder. "I love you all so much."
Finally after a long while he releases me. Tears are shining in both our eyes. Fear clutches at my heart for a moment. I know once he has gone there is no coming back. "Are you sure he is there? Are you sure he's not gone?" Even I can't bring myself to say that his master might be dead and that this journey may be all for naught. It would break his heart.
He just smiles at me with this light in his eyes that comes when he talks about his master. "He's waiting for me. I know it."
My heart knows it too. I can't help smiling in spite of wanting to cry. He will be so happy to rejoin his master. He deserves to be happy. They both do. "Don't worry, Dad. I'll keep the Red Book alive."
"I know you will, Elanor. I know you will."