An erie silence has washed over the Nation, like a plague sweeping across our lands cursed by the spirits. Fields of crops abandoned. Carts stacked with bundles of grain along with equipment scattered among empty fields. Waves breaking on the hulls of ships were the only sounds at the docks. Children remained home from school. Merchants closed their shops. Venders closed their stalls. All cloaking their establishments with white cloths adorned with a single emblem. The encircled golden flame, symbolizing the mark of their once beloved crown prince.
Every flag and banner throughout all the Nations were replaced by a single one. Unifying us all. Tieing yet another bond between us. In the center a golden flame encircled by a gold dragon. In each corner rested the symbol of each Nation, of each element, signifying the balance you so deeply believed in. The peace you fought for. The harmony you helped maintained. One of the many acts of love, respect, and unyielding gratitude the people of the world have for you. Surely not first and undoubtedly the last acts we, as a people, will do to honor you.
Words do not exist for the overwhelming emotions my husband, and I felt when we were presented with the original piece of art depicting the symbol they had created for you. The word of your entering the spirit world shot around the globe at the speed of your lightning. Kings, Chiefs, and their people came together as one. They designed, gathered materials uniquely from their lands, and were sent to my homeland to combine them together as one.
Not five days later word of a vessel approaching with silver and blue sails, flying a white and gold flag were spotted off our shores. My already bloodshot eyes filled to the brim with tears, when our family entered the throne room. They all had come. Dad, Gran-Gran, Grand-Pakku, Uncle Bato, Sokka, Suki, Aang, Toph, and all of our nephews and nieces. They all came in white. They were all led by Gran-Gran who was protecting what I instantly recognized as a memorial quilt. Her face calm when she approached the dias, but a great sorrow stormed behind her eyes. Her wise, leathered hands gripped the folded edges, as if she was afraid to let it go, making our new reality- real. As our nieces held it up for us to view, Gran spoke conveying the meaning, and the intentions of the other Nations with the symbols.
However, your blanket would be unique. There were symbols hidden within symbols, very much like you, with your proverbs and riddles. The symbols for the Grand Master of the White Lotus, Dragon of the West, tea, and pai sho were masterfully embroidered within the fibers. The last hidden symbols were the names of your wife and sons, Lu Ten and Zuko. At the sound of his name my husband fell to his knees, and held Gran at the waist, letting his grief flow freely. I couldn't make out the words Gran was confiding in him, as she held his head to her body with one hand, and stroked his hair with the other. I had never seen him like this.
My body had been trembling. Tears stained my cheeks. I still held the hands of our two youngest children, who were sobbing, when my father engulfed me with his arms. Your oldest grandchildren, Lu Ten and Urzirya (ur-zi-ruh), clung to Ursa. I am not sure who was whose life line at that moment, perhaps we all were each others. No one spoke for what seemed to be an eternity. It very well could have been seconds, minutes, or hours, before Zuko rose. Gran tip toed and placed her hands on both sides of his face. He bent down to her level as she wiped away the tears that still lingered with the pads of her thumbs, and kissed both sides of his cheeks. Slowly one by one we all held each other as we were reunited once again, taking comfort in our shared grief.
I wonder if you will ever truly know how many lives you have touched. Your physical presence maybe gone from this plane, but your spirit will forever remain. Every person that knew you. Everyone that has met you. Shared a cup of tea with you, game of pai sho, or was given one of you infamous proverbs. Even those who learned of you second handedly, by learning either of your deeds or wisdom, which usually went hand in hand. You left your mark on all our spirits. In one form or another you have managed to imprint apart of you within all of us, and that is something that we will forever treasure.
I feel broken, like a part of me is missing. I miss you uncle. I will always miss you. I do not know what to do. I do not know how to help Zuko. I see him and my heart breaks all over again each time. I am tortured by his eyes. I feel the pain and anguish that blaze behind them and I am helpless. I pray to Agni and La that I could take away his pain, even a fraction of it, just to ease his heavy heart. He is so brave and strong. He is taking care of all of us around him before himself, and all I want to do is wrap my arms around him and tell him that, "it will be alright." When I say these words out loud, I plead with the spirits that there is truth behind them. His nights are restless. His days seem hollow.
I know that with time it will become easier to breathe, but that day has not come; and I do not see it arriving in the near future. The children preoccupy his thoughts. I watch him with them, and there are moments when he doesn't realize that he had allowed himself to smile. It happens when one of the children do or say something that remind him of you. More than one occasion little Akiko will sneak into our room at night. She will tug on his arm or the sheets, asking to be picked up. When he does, she hugs him with a gentle fierceness and will say, "I love you daddy and Grandpa Iroh loves you too. Don't be sad daddy, Grandpa will always be with us." Zuko will place her between us and kiss her temple telling her that you will always love her too. Then she will caress is scarred cheek until she falls into a slumber with his silent tears as her lullaby. How does she know? How is she able to ease the pain in chests? It allows us a moment of peace. One that we so long for.
There are so many more things I want to tell you, to talk to you about. How do I thank the man, and father who raised the love of my life? So much of who he is today is because of you. I fall more in love with him each day, and love him more deeply than I never knew was possible. Thank you uncle. Thank you for him. Thank you for welcoming me into your arms, your heart, and into your family. We are all the better for having been blessed with the honor of knowing you, and receivers of your love. Thank you for loving our children. Teaching them to cherish the simple joys of life and complexities of tea.
Zuko tells them, "Right now we feel as though we have a Grandpa Iroh size hole in our hearts, but we have so much love, and so many memories that we will be able to fill that hole. It will overflow, just as his love for all of us." How far has the troubled young man who thought he had lost his honor has come? Thank you for being his father. For guiding him, supporting him, teaching him, loving him. Thank you.
You are the reason that we will all be gathered together this morning. Here in the Fire Nation, as well as designated places around all the world. At high noon the Fire Sages will recite the last rights, and we will all say a silent prayer to help guide you (though I highly doubt you will need any help from us) on to your next journey. On to your next adventure, one that each of us will one day follow. Then Zuko and Lu Ten will set your pyre ablaze. We thought you would like your ashes to rest beside your first born and your beloved wife. So that is what we plan to do.
I thank the spirits that we have you, my mother, and Lu Ten watching over and waiting for us. The night called you away and you answered. Farwell, our most beloved father, grandfather, and friend. Until the night calls upon us, then we will see each other again, hopefully with a pot of fresh brewed tea waiting.
I love you,
~Katara
A/N: Zuko and Katara's oldest daughter's name is my combination of Ursa, Zuko, and Kya. The name Akiko is Japanese for bright light, I thought it was fitting.