Chapter 10: Dealing with loss
When Beldorion died at Leia's hands, he had lived a long life already, and experienced the companionship of the Jedi Order, as a youngling, a Padawan, and a Knight. He met many beings from around the Galaxy, and, as was inevitable, outlived most of them. The pain was raw when it first happened, but tempered by the Jedi's teachings, bearable after a while. Eventually, he grew numb to it, and assigned little importance to his short lived acquaintances. This process, unhealthy in any case, hadn't been experienced by him by the time of Ta'gen's death, so it came as an horrific shock. Few children contemplate dead or consider it something that can befall them or their peers, and Bel was no different despite his prophetic dreams. It hit him even worse than it did the younglings who hadn't met him, or remembered him only vaguely, and who were more embedded in the no attachment culture of the Jedi. His maturity and recent experiences with a loving family worked against him, magnifying the grief he felt, or perhaps bringing it closer to the level a civilian would experience.
Of course, there was a darker side to his brooding, as guilt ate away at him on the lone waking nights. Never in his memories had there been a Padawan that showcased Force Healing in the Trials, and Ta'gen had only done so at his prodding. In most futures he had glimpsed, there was little mention of Healing, some regarding it as a lost art even, so he couldn't help but worry that he had somehow made his friend into a target of some sort. Even though it could be a coincidence, the cold laughter he had sensed pointed to a hidden malice that was responsible in some way. He didn't have the luxury of ignorance, and so he worried the Sith were working to cripple the Jedi from the shadows, and Bane's legacy had acted against a young boy, their uncaring hatred snuffing yet another innocent life.
Weighed by such dark thoughts, Beldorion's routine suffered, and Fosterer March spent long days counseling him, attempting guided meditations, and consulting her fellow Jedi. This was one instance where his fellow younglings soon left him in the dust, more easily accepting the doctrine that there was no death, just the Force. The worst disadvantage, however, was his particular gift of foresight. A gift that had failed him, or even worse, betrayed him! Anger and grief threatened to overwhelm him, barely held at bay by the guidance of his teachers. Master Yoda (promoted the year before) even took the time to come and have in-depth talks with him on the few occasions he was free, touching on predetermination, free will, and letting go. It was the work of months before the pain dulled, the resentment faded, and he stopped envying the younger children that seemed to just... forget Ta'gen. Like he didn't matter, he lamented, like he wasn't their brother. It was unfair, of course, and on some level he understood it. With time, he would come to accept it implicitly, and begin to grow warmer again, but in the meantime, a year had come and gone, and with it a new set of Trials.
While this drama unfolded, two more Clawmous Clan prospects had attended the Trials, with one becoming a Padawan and the other leaving for the Corps, but he couldn't muster the energy to remember their names, or much details about them. He hoped they'd have a long and happy life, but they shared little connection, even less than he had with Fari the year before. He hadn't benefitted from their company much, and they hadn't been counseled by him at all, so their showing had been standard for a youngling, with little to remark upon. Or perhaps he was presumptuous and his help hadn't made much of an impact in the previous years anyhow, it was hard to tell objectively when he was uncentered and hurting.
The time he spent isolating himself had seen the younglings fend for themselves, rebuffed by Beldorion if they approached, with most giving up the effort. Bolb and Icia remained clan mates that would occasionally seek him out, and when the time came he gratefully restarted his relation with the Clan starting with them. Slowly, he became a familiar presence in classes, and in the library as well. He felt haunted by the ghost of his absent friends, but all wounds healed, even if his were barely beginning to scab over. Of course, he knew that it was absolutely true that in the Force, he might find Ta'gen again, and that was the most powerful balm for his hurt.
His return to a regular routine meant he again made an effort to integrate in class, and offered advice to his fellows, but in one sense he kept himself apart. He didn't dare to train others in healing until he was certain it wouldn't be a danger to them, and that might be years into the future. He quietly confided his suspicions to Master Rowe (promoted just this year) and Master Yoda, who didn't necessarily dismiss them, but cautioned Ta'gen's death might have been an unfortunate, unpremeditated event. Still, they agreed to remain vigilant, and encouraged him to keep studying healing in the meantime. So, with renewed fervor, he dove into his training, endless days now shared with his friends again. And if he was a bit more serious in his everyday life, and his focus seemed at times off-putting, it was a small enough change that no one commented on it.
Beldorion's life had been shaken up again, forever banishing the complacency he had fallen into since he became an Initiate. After this wake up call, he couldn't afford to hope things would just turn out alright, so he took to keeping a detailed dream journal. Every symbol, portent, event, and person he dreamed of he then wrote down, and he reread his journal repeatedly, determined to never again be taken by surprise like he had been. It was impossible to avoid it completely, of course, but the effort he put on did make him feel better at the very least, and he liked to think he was getting more in touch with his Visions. He was determined to protect his brothers and sisters in the order, no matter what.
Author's note:
What are the stages of grief? How many are there? Do you go through all of them in order? Or have to go through them at all? It's debated, but it's said the pain passes.