There is an overwhelming sense of peace following the death of a loved one, once the body has been lain to rest and the final tears lay on the ground, soaking into the thirsty earth. There may be more tears in the future — maybe from a memory on the anniversary of a special holiday, or the radio played the loved one’s favorite song, or sometimes for no reason whatsoever — but for the moment an utter calm washes over your entire body.
Whether that peace is a result of the feeling of closure or is merely the product of chemicals released into your body after a good hard cry, it is difficult to know for certain. Some mysteries are better left unexplained.
I wonder if Luke Skywalker, standing at the pyre, watching as the metal casing that housed the body of the man who had once been Anakin Skywalker, his father, melt and burn away, felt that wave of release. Did Luke shed any tears for the father that had never been there for him, that had committed atrocities so heinous that he could not possibly be redeemed by a single act of selflessness?
My gut — and my own personal experiences — tell me he did.
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