 | Oft do I think back to the day that I recieved news of my father's death. A sad reminder, but a happy one; also. I remember the day, as if it were yesterday. My mother was weaving a small cloth in her chair, I sat looking through the window. The music of below drifted up on the sweet winds; and kissed my cheeks ever so softly. Then, I saw him. He who bore the news; running across the bridge. Sorrow was on his face, and black was the seal that adorned the letter. My mother wept like I had never seen before (she wept only once, when he was bidden away with Gil-Galad.). Falling to the ground, on her knee's; the cloth she had so lovingly made, became full of her tears. Her cries echo through my very mind, to this day. It was not until our neighbour took her for rest, that I was told of why she wept. To me, they said my father was no more. That he had left this world. Then, the impact of it all came at once. I fell into the arms of he who told me, and wept. Wept, like a child...for I was. Dear father. Not a day goes by that I do not think of you and mother; of what could have been, of what was. Of how I love you both. But we are worlds apart...yet we shall meet again, I am sure. |
