Moonspear you were never made to fly

Up until that point, talking about her parents almost seemed taboo. As if talking about them would only bring up negative emotions, from within herself and others alike, because talking about them was bound to lead to the thought of their passing. But maybe she was thinking about it all wrong, for all this time—maybe talking and thinking about them didn’t have to be a negative experience, maybe some good could be pulled from it. Reliving those fond memories that she held close to her heart, sharing tales with others about them both and listening in return to any stories she’d never heard.

Maybe the path to healing was not to forget them but to celebrate them.

Although the corners of her eyes were beginning to sting, tears threatening to escape them, a hint of a smile graced her lips. She nodded, listening intently and taking every word he said to heart; she would cherish their memory always, even when it came time for her to leave this world behind, too. She would live for them, she would exist knowing that she carried them both with her—that they would always live on in her heart. And, when the time came, she would tell her nieces and nephews about them. She would share the lessons once taught to her—and, someday, perhaps she may even show them to her hideout.

“I w-will… I will show them, too,” she decided, doing her best to blink the tears away. “I’ll show them just like papa showed me.” And eventually, when it came time for her to say goodbye to this body, she hoped her mama and papa might greet her with pride because of it.