|| Uninvited || An Anakin Skywalker Story

Chapter Fifty Five

Anotha one! 

Not sure if it was the sad music I was listening to while writing this or what but oof...this one is a doozy. 

Hope you like it <3

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Before getting to really know him, I could probably count the similarities between Anakin and I on one hand. Even still, we reside at the opposite ends of most spectrums, gently coaxing the other to meet in the middle. However, the one thing that initially bound us together in shared experience is the loss of our mothers.

I knew all too well what it was like to suddenly and traumatically lose the gentle security and unmistakable warmth only a mother can provide. It leaves you feeling cold, completely leeched of comfort, and acutely alone. The person who brought you into this galaxy, the woman who sheltered you from the brutalities of the world and loved you with everything she had, is suddenly gone. Leaving you painfully exposed.

But the galaxy doesn't stop and wait for you to recover. Instead, you are forced bear the harsh new reality as it grates against your freshly battered, raw sense of self. It's perhaps the most difficult and inhumane exercise of gathering every ounce of strength you possess and forcing yourself to just...carry on.

When you lose your mother at such a young age, it cracks the very compass of your soul.

What do I do next? Where do I go from here? Which way is true north?

You are forced to cling to any grounding force thrown your way, hoping you don't get washed away in the flood of pain and dark bewilderment.

For both Anakin and I, that grounding force was found at the temple.

He dove further into the ranks of the Jedi while I, for better or worse, allowed myself to be defined by my role as cook. It was the only way we knew how to sort through the emotional turmoil and just cope. Hoping that one day the pain will subside.

It never truly does. We just get better at distracting ourselves from it.

So, as we stood before the eroded headstone, casting long shadows on the hand-etched inscription as the suns blazed against our backs, I knew Anakin was experiencing the confounding and painful sensation of loss all over again. Questions flicked through my mind and all I wanted to do was reach out and comfort him. But I forced myself to remain quiet and still, allowing Anakin some semblance of control by dictating the next move.

Hi mom.

My heart broke at the simplicity of the greeting. One I'm sure he used countless times as a boy. I could picture it now, his golden hair and skin reflecting the sunlight he was born to embrace as he bounded into his mother's open arms. The boyish grin plastered across his face as he launched into whatever information he deemed newsworthy for the day. It could have been a new story overheard from the star pilots at the cantina, a noteworthy progress made on his many at-home mechanical projects, or even just an exciting occurrence that happened out on the streets with his friends.

I wonder if he ached for the purity of those seemingly mundane moments as much as I do.

Letting out a breath I didn't realize I was holding; I tore my eyes from the tombstone and glanced up in his direction. His eyebrows were knit together in a grimace and his jaw was set in a tense line. Almost as if he was physically straining against the influx of emotion.

We stood in silence before I ventured to speak.

"Hi Shmi." I eventually said in a quiet, but clear voice. As her name passed my lips, they naturally tilted into a smile.