Dear diary, lately I've been caught between two worlds. The one I left behind and the one I am in.
There are days where I just want to lie down and let go. I understand now why the Elves call our mortality, the gift of Men. It is a chance to sleep forever without trial or burden. It is a privilege to breathe our last breath. To sleep with our forefathers when all is said and done.
But I know I can't let go, not now, not yet. Motherhood is a thankless task but I do not expect it to be any different. It has been a week since I've learned that my own mother passed away.
I do not know how long she has been dead. I did not ask when Gleoith told me. But I do know that this knowledge was kept from me. I didn't cry, in, fact, I didn't feel anything.
Mother is dead my Mother. The woman that brought me into Middle-Earth as I know it. And I felt nothing. I wasn't close with her, she often shut me out in my times of need. It was all about discipline and structure. Because we were nobles. We represented our countries and the values thereof. It didn't matter if you were six years old or seventy. No, not in my family.
You did your part or you were worth nothing. The best I could say about Mother and Father is that they never beat me or my sister.
My thoughts have been turned toward the hows and whys lately.
Is it too late to receive justice?
My line isn't dead yet.
I feel like I have so much unfinished business.
But I cannot leave behind the people that are in my present.
Perhaps some things are best taken to the grave..
