The Strength of Tears
The hill was steep and the dirt road, if you could call it that, was covered in rocks, making the walk even harder. As he marched up the sea-side hill to his destination, a sea breeze blew defiantly against the walking man, scattering his hair and obscuring his vision. The sun was sinking lower and lower toward the horizon, replacing the golden light of the day with the crimsons and purples of twilight. It would be dark soon.
On another day, the man might have cursed himself for not wearing sensible walking shoes instead of the expensive royal boots that he was on his feet. Any other time, he would have scowled at the wind for messing up his hair. Any day other than today, he would have admired the beauty of the dying day and the magical colors the sunset painted the Heavens with.
But not this day. Today the man was filled with too much pain, and at the same time, too numb to do anything other than walk.
"We are almost there, my Lord."
He did not acknowledge the guide. Neither did he acknowledge the old man that were walking closely behind him. His expression was empty and emotionless.
The small cottage that sat atop the sea-side hill soon came into view. It was...humble, the man thought to himself. The small home was worn out and dying, weeds were conquering where there was once a garden and vines were crawling up the walls, claiming the once peaceful home as their own. The roof was in terrible shape and falling apart. It was obvious no one had lived here for a very long time.
His mind began to wander as he looked at the rundown cottage.
Zuko knew something was wrong when he heard the loud clacking noise of hurried footsteps on hard floor practically running to his office. One did not walk so quickly to the Fire Lord's office unless it was of great importance. He looked up from the paperwork on his desk, prepared for the worst.
Iroh walked through the large oak doors with a unreadable expression on his face and clutching a scroll. Now Zuko was truly worried; Uncle knew how stressful things had been recently, and would not disturb the Fire Lord unless it was something of great importance.
Iroh did not wait to be acknowledged before he spoke. "My Lord", he said bowing, "as you know, we have been looking into the former Fire Lord's documents and have come across something I thought you would find very interesting. It is a document listing the names of people Ozai had banished from the Fire Nation since he became Fire Lord and their last known location."
Zuko's eyes widened and his heart skipped a beat.
Iroh walked up to the desk and unwrapped the scroll, and put in front of the Fire Lord. "Although this document is several years old, we believe that if we start our investigation at the locations specified on this document, and follow them from there, we might be able to find some of these people."
Zuko was only half-listening. His eyes were hungrily taking in the scroll, searching the sea of names for the one person that he had been looking for since he became the Fire Lord.
Then he saw it. Her name written in fading ink, Zuko concentrated on it, forgetting how to breathe.
Finally looking away from the scroll, he stood up and turned to the former General. "I want our best people on this! I don't care how long it takes, find her," he demanded, his eyes ablaze with once lost hope.
Iroh looked at Zuko one last time before leaving, and saw a face filled with longing, sadness, and hope.
The inside looked just as bad as the exterior. The house was consumed in the intoxicating stench of dirt, dust, and forgotten memories. Dust covered everything in a fuzzy veil, leaving fingerprints on whatever the people touched. Cracked vases of wilted flowers sat on almost every piece of furniture. Torn and broken paintings of animals and mountains hung on the walls, no longer able to create feelings of joy and wonder in its audience like they did before. Now the paintings were a monument to the ravaging effects of time.
Wandering through the abandoned home, he eventually found the bedroom. He hesitated at the door, not sure he had the right to invade the former owner's privacy.
He didn't think he did, but came in anyways.
The closet contained torn and moth-eaten pieces of cloth that were clothes at one point and the wood the small bed was made of looked rotten and probably would've fallen apart at the slightest touch.
The bedside table had a framed picture of a naive and innocent boy too young to understand the cruelty of the Fates. It was the only picture in the house.
Iroh sighed, preparing himself, before entering the office.
Zuko looked up, a hope-filled look on his face. He turned to his uncle, hoping to find some good news in his eyes, but his expression was unreadable.
Iroh approached the Fire Lord's desk slowly. "My Lord, I have received some news about the location of the banished that I thought you should hear about."
The look on Zuko's face made him hesitate.
"We assigned our best investigators to find her, and following her last known location, we discovered that she had been living in a small village in the Earth Kingdom. She was the village's medicine woman."
"She 'was'..."
Iroh released one more depressed sigh. "As you know, the war caused many Earth Kingdom peasents to live in poverty and in close quarters. As a result, a plague swept through the country, killing many until a cure was found."
Zuko's eyes widened in horror.
"She died from the plague four years ago, my Lord. I'm sorry."
He stood in front of the tombstone for hours. The sun had long ago fallen beyond the horizon, yet he stood in front of the moonlit piece of granite. He only moved to shiver from the cold breeze that would occasionally gust past him.
He refused to drink anything, he declined any food that was brought to him, and he ordered solitude without speaking.
It was getting close to midnight when the man heard his elderly traveling companion walk up next to him. The old man said nothing; he just stood next to him and looked at the stars.
"The stars are lovely tonight," he said after a few minutes of heavy silence.
There was no reply.
"Perhaps they are not the stars, but rather openings in Heaven where the love of our lost ones pours through and shines down upon us to let us know they are happy."
There was still no reply.
"Lord Zuko, I know that you are in pain, but do not think that you have to keep your pain inside. Do not be afraid to shed tears. Tears have a wisdom all their own. They come when a person has relaxed enough to let go and to work through his sorrow. They are the natural bleeding of an emotional wound, carrying the poison out of the system. Here lies the road to recovery."
A heavy silence passed before there was a reply. "How did you feel when you lost Lu Ten, Uncle?" His voice was hoarse after hours of disuse. "Do you miss him?"
The question caught him by surprise. Very rarely did anybody mention his deceased son. "Every day, but I do not let his loss overwhelm me. I still miss those I loved who are no longer with me but I find I am grateful for having loved them. The gratitude has finally conquered the loss."
Another strained silence passed before he spoke again.
"She died before I changed and ended the war. She died hearing rumors of me chasing the world's last hope, the Avatar. Four years ago, I was a monster. And she died thinking that."
"No she did not," Iroh said with steely resolve in his voice, now facing his nephew. "Nothing you could ever do would ever make her think of you as a monster. She never stopped loving you and rest assured that in her dying, in her flight through darkness toward a new light, she held you in her arms and carried your closeness with her. And when she arrived at the Spirit Realm, your image was imprinted on her joy-filled soul."
A strained silence passed before Iroh placed a rare panda lily on the grave and bid Zuko one last good night before walking away, letting him reflect on his words.
The granite tombstone reflected the silvery moonlight, illumination the engraving perfectly. Zuko read it one more time before he finally let the tears fall.
I'm Gone now, but I'm still very near.
Death can never separate us.
Each time you feel a gentle breeze,
It's my hand caressing your face.
Each time the wind blows,
It carries my voice whispering your name.
When the wind blows your hair ever so slightly,
Think of it as me pushing a few stray hairs back in place.
When you feel a few raindrops fall on your face,
It's me placing soft kisses.
At night look up in the sky and see the stars shining so brightly.
I'm one of those stars and I'm winking at you and smiling with delight.
For never forget you're the apple of my eye.
Here lies Ursa, beloved Mother and Healer. May she rest in Peace.
Although I may not be able to prevent the worst from happening, I am responsible for my attitude toward the inevitable misfortunes that darken life. Bad things do happen; how I respond to them defines my character and the quality of my life. I can choose to sit in perpetual sadness, immobilized by the gravity of my loss, or I can choose to rise from the pain and treasure the most precious gift I have - Life itself.
-Walter Anderson
The Document Manager gave me a lot of trouble while I was writing this, so it took me a while before I could post this. The poem on Ursa's tombstone was written by Mary M. Green. Most of what Iroh said I got from quotes spoken by Molly Fumia, Rita Mae Brown, and F. Alexander Magoun. I hope that you liked it. Look forward to your reviews.
For those that are reading my AaMl fic 'Subconscious Desires', I apologize for the lack of updates. I'll post the next chapter soon. Thanks.