| Title: I Won't Say Goodbye Author: Cassia Category: Vignette, angst, heartbreak, grief. Rated: G-PG Archive: Early Years & Jedi Apprentice/Padawan Journals Disclaimer: The Star Wars Characters and events belong to George Lucas and George Lucas alone. I have no permission to use them, and I receive no money for doing so. Summary: An entry from Obi-Wan's journal the day after Qui- Gon died. There is no plot. This is a dealing-with-grief piece. Time frame: During TMP, about an hour before Qui-Gon's funeral. Note: I don't usually write stuff like this. In fact, to be truthful, I used to carefully avoid even reading stories or shorts that dealt with the time frame surrounding Qui-Gon's death. I could barely stand to watch the end of the movie and just liked to pretend that it never happened. That was until my Grandfather died. It's funny how having experienced real death makes dealing with imaginary death easier. I was right there when my Grandpa died, even if it wasn't in my arms. I'd never seen death before, never had anyone I loved pass into that eternal sleep. It was beautiful in an odd way, but it was also very difficult. These two stories, "I Won't Say Goodbye" and "How Hard Can it Be?" are my response to those events. Thanks for listening to me ramble and for putting up with me. --Cassia I Won't Say Goodbye. Standard Date 40-16-0002 Data pad online. Journal function activated Recording. I do not usually find the time to record my thought or feelings in this manor. There always seem to be so much else to do that journal keeping falls by the wayside. Besides, I could always go to my Maser if I had something on my heart that needed to be expressed, but now... Oh Master! Do you know how much I miss you? It has barley been two days since you died and yet it already feels an age that I have been without you. And yet, at the same time, it does not seem quite real. I still feel as if at any moment I will look up and see you walk in the door, your tall frame blocking the view of the hall in the way I always remember. There are so many small things I remember about you now that I took for granted before; yet it is these things that I miss the most. The little motions you would make during negotiations that let me know what you were really thinking or feeling about the situation, the small turns of phrase that you always used, the way you were always telling me to focus on the moment... you don't know how much I would give to hear you give me one of those lectures now, although I always hated them when you were alive. Maybe you really never do appreciate what you have until it is gone. Or at least, maybe it just becomes suddenly more important. For thirteen years Qui-Gon Jinn has been like a father to me, and now he is gone. Yes, I know he is one with the Force and will never truly leave me, and I will see him again one day, but... It's not the same. I did not expect him to live forever, but I don't think you can ever be ready for death, not even when you stare it in the face everyday as Qui-Gon and I did. I feel as if I am living in a semi-void, as if when Qui-Gon died he took with him all the light in my life. I front of everyone else, I must be strong, I must be the dutiful Jedi who shows no emotion that they all expect. They need me to be strong; Anakin needs me to be strong. Good grief that child didn't need any more grief right now. Here however, alone in the privacy of this room in the Theed Palace that Queen Amidala has given me until it is time to leave, I can grieve. I can cry. Jedi cry? Oh yes, we cry; I cry. I may be a Jedi, but I am also a human being with a heart, a fact that is too often lost or forgotten under the title of "Jedi". I cry and cry until my eyes hurt and my throat aches, I cry every time I think of him, but I don't care! I want to remember! I want to remember every little thing about him until it is indelibly etched into my mind! And, as strange as it sounds, I want to cry. I want to cry and cry and never stop because at least in crying there is relief, there is an outlet for all the grief in my heart, all the pain that threatens to strangle me. It is when the tears cease that I dread, because when they end the emptiness becomes unbearable. When the tears dry up they are replaced by a dead, empty, depressed feeling that gnaws my insides like a vrelk. I do not weep for Qui-Gon, because I know that if he went, then it was his time and it was the will of the Force. He is in a better place and I know I will see him again. Why then do I feel so sad? I don't know. Perhaps because I don't know how I will live never seeing his beloved face again, never hearing his rare, but warm laugh or the way he would call me Padawan... Oh Force! My heart is a bleeding wound and I don't know how to bandage it. No matter how calm I appear on the outside, inside I am a wreck. I look out upon this city's many beauties, both natural and man-made, but I don't see them. All I see, again and again is the scene in the generator room, playing itself over and over before my eyes and making everything else seem a cold, distant, unreal shadow. He died in my arms! In my arms for Force's sake! Yet I am glad it happened so, at least I was there. At least he didn't have to die alone, or with strangers who cared nothing for him. I never imagined it could be so hard to say goodbye. Can it be that after all my training, I am still not ready for so simple a thing? Or perhaps it is because goodbye is the wrong word. Goodbye is much, much too hard, so I won't say goodbye. Instead I'll say: see you later. But oh how I'll miss you until then. Night is falling now, the Council is deliberating on whether or not they will allow Anakin to be my Padawan learner and on whether or not I will be allowed to obtain the title of Knight. Of this last, I am not concerned. It is far too late in my apprenticeship to pair me with a new Master and I do not believe that they will simply drop me because I no longer have a teacher. Qui-Gon thought I was ready, now I guess I'll have to be. After their decision, we will have the funeral. I take Anakin at Qui-Gon's request, perhaps against my better judgement, but I do it also because in Ani I see a little boy who wants only to be a Jedi win every fiber of his being. This I understand very well. Can I deny him his dream? Can I make him feel as unwanted as I felt as a child? I fear I already have. I know the child is grieving, but so am I and I have little comfort to give him though I will try. I thought this would start getting at least a little better soon. After all, the first day should be the worst and then it should start to get easier, shouldn't' it? Apparently not. In fact, it's just getting worse. I feel as if I am searching for something, but for what I do not know. It's not peace, no, I have peace about this already, so it must be something else. Comfort perhaps. I have no one to talk to about how I feel, Qui-Gon is gone and I fear that the strain of this Anakin situation has made it difficult if not impossible for me to talk to the only other person who might have understood. I wish I could have Yoda's council on this, and yet, wisdom is not really what I want right now, not what I need. What I need no one can give me. I don't even know what it is. I feel so lost, so alone. I'm looking for something, but I know not what. Perhaps tonight after the funeral I will take a walk alone in the palace gardens. I want to see the stars. Obi-Wan Kenobi Dedicated to the Memory of my beloved Grandfather. |