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Here is the latest one. Thanks for reading and please review!
"There is sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than then thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief…and unspeakable love." –Washington Irving
A man is not supposed to cry. He is not supposed to let crystalline waters escape from hooded eyes. That is a stigma of being a male. A man is strong no matter what the situation is. To wail out his inner pain and anguish publically…it something he should shudder at the thought of. Aang had always been one to express himself openly and honestly, except for the whole crying situation. Not to say that he never had…it was something he had always avoided. Even now in his old age, even when Sokka had passed on and his bison Appa.
He had grown up into a man. A man should not cry.
It was now in the privacy of their room that he struggled with this notion. She lay on their bed. Eyes closed. Shallow breathing. In her old age, she was still beautiful to him. Her once dark hair was now white as the snowy world she had been raised in. The wrinkles on her face were the mirror of their beloved life together. People die, it a part of life, and he knew that extremely well.
He wanted to be strong for her and not to show her how much pain he was in. He held back the tirade of grief that threatened to swamp him. One day he would see her again. Aang gently brushed back stray hairs from her placid forehead. She was so cold, frigid like the icy winter. Aang clenched his eyes shut to keep similar waters from wafting up.
Her eyes shuddered open, but he did not notice for his were closed. A hand, gentle, but shaking, touched his forearm with a loving touch. "Aang?" She called; her voice was the barest whisper of whispers.
He opened his eyes.
"It's alright to cry," She continued with extreme difficulty written on her face. "I love you."
The dam broke.
One, than other, than other, silently wriggled down his pale cheeks. He took her hand into his own larger ones. Aang looked down at their interlocked hands. They were bony and sun-spotted by old age. They were great together and she was his entire world, though he did have the world to take care of.
He looked back at her face. Her eyes were open, but had transformed into a blank sheet. The tears fell more for awhile.
But he did not cry after that.
They would be together again one day.