Anakin returns. Eyes aflame, he carries what can only be Shmi's corpse. My heart breaks for him. For a gentle woman whose life has been ended so cruelly. The Lars family and I watch silently as he brings her body into their home. We part before the ferocity ready to burst from his face. He doesn't say it, but it emanates from him: Look at what you failed to prevent. What you did to the woman who was my mother. Mine.
Beru, ever practical, regains her composure first. She gestures to Owen and together they usher Anakin toward a room where he can lay Shmi's body. Cliegg and I are left by the doorway, awkward with grief. I remind myself that this man has just lost his wife. Though he expected her death, this must surely be a shock. I cannot imagine losing Anakin in this way. There are no words, but I find myself moving to stand by Cliegg's side and take his calloused hand in mine. He meets my eyes as long-repressed tears dribble slowly down his cheeks.
Anakin re-emerges shortly after in a flurry of anger. He pauses briefly in his crazed movement to take in the tableau that is Cliegg and I, then brushes past and bursts through the back door. I go to follow but Cliegg squeezes my hand.
"Give him a moment, dear. That way is the workshop; he won't have gone far."
Breathe, Ani.
Owen returns to lead Cliegg gently to where they have laid the body. For a moment I am alone to sit in the knowledge that Shmi no longer draws breath. That Anakin's world has been torn apart. That my role is to nurse gaping emotional wounds. I take a deep breath and make for the back door.