Mother

Sadiq stood in somber, contemplative silence, staring down at the fresh earth. He knelt down, touching the carefully packed down earth. The white mask he usually held firmly against his face clattered to the ground, revealing his mourning visage. He did not audibly sob, he did have an image to maintain after all, but the silent tears flowed without resistance down his face.

"Hey, Turkey. I... I heard about your mom." The voice seemed so familiar, and yet foreign, at first Sadiq could not place it. Rather he quickly wiped his tears with his sleeve and looked up at the tired expression of his ages old nemesis. "Sorry dude," Heracles said, setting a hand on the Turkish man's shoulder.

Sadiq looked away from the hovering Greek, back at the grave. "It is no surprise. Her health had not been good for a very long time. She went peacefully," he said stoically.

Heracles could feel the Turk's apprehension, but didn't let up. He'd already been through this before. He had toughed out the loss of his mother on his own. It was easier on him though. There were still gifts from her all throughout his house. To his knowledge though, Turkey's mother hadn't left anything at all behind. He gently pat the Turk on the back, kneeling down to his level.

Sadiq was quiet, his expression twitching slightly as another tear raced down his already wet and salty cheek. "You know... I hadn't spoken to her much in the past few years. We became so distant. And now... now she's gone." His voice was hushed, as he did not dare bawl, especially in front of that pesky Greek. "I don't remember when it was, the last time I told her I loved her... I'm not going to get that chance again."

Heracles' expression softened a bit at the other's silent sobbing. "Yeah, I know what you mean. I remember when... when my mom passed on. It came out of no where. Everyone was shocked really, especially Rome." Heracles heard Sadiq snort when he brought up Rome. He picked up a tiny pebble in the dirt, twiddling it anxiously in his fingers. "Eqypt's mom was upset too. It wasn't too long after that... " he paused, inhaling slowly. He looked at Turkey, offering the best attempt at a smile he could. "Now they're all in Heaven together. I'm sure they're very happy to be together again."

Sadiq mumbled somewhat to himself, then for the first time fully looked at Heracles. "I... I suppose you're right." The Turk wiped his eyes again and exhaled loudly.

"That's right," Heracles said, poking the other in the ribs. "Remember the good times. The happy memories, and don't dwell so much on the bad." He could see a soft flicker of realization in the other's eyes. "It's what your mom would've wanted after all."

Sadiq took that moment to stand up, carefully brushing the dirt off him. He straightened his expression, wiping his eyes one more time. "My tears could fill the sea between us," he murmured. Then a slight, sad smirk twitched at the corner of his lips. "She once said, I remember, that she wanted her body to be burned, and to have her ashes thrown in the Aegean Sea." There was a deep sadness in his eyes, his voice cracking as he went on, "but I was unable to make the arrangements. They had already buried her here by the time I got back from the summit."

Heracles frowned, standing next to Sadiq and giving him a gentle pat on the back. " I know what you mean. I wanted my mother's final resting place to be on Mount Olympus. That place was very special to her."

Sadiq looked curiously over at the Greek, cocking an eyebrow at him. "And?"

"And? What do you mean and? You've got mountains in your house, it's pretty much impossible. Instead we laid her to rest in a field outside of Athens. She always loved it there," he said, a sad smile creasing his face. "She would take me there to play when I was small, I remember. We picked flowers together, and we talked and laughed." Heracles chuckled, his eyes water slightly at the memories.

Sadiq nodded, a faint ghost of a smile daring to grace his lips. "My mother... She was a very quiet parent. She did not take me places or pick flowers with me. But she taught me very much. I remember every night she would tell me stories. Her stories, or ones even older than her, from a big book," he said, measuring it with his hands. "I loved her stories."

He paused for a moment, feeling a soothing wind flow between them, and smiled. "Her favorite story was one someone else had taught her, even when she was small. It was about a young boy who lived with his impoverished parents, and their fields were so withered they could not grow grain to feed themselves. And the little boy died. But, when he died, Allah came to him, and offered to send him back to Earth. And the little boy came back, but as the wheat in his parent's withered field. And even though he was in a different form, they knew it was him and praised Allah." He smiled, wiping away a single tear this time. "I would like to think that my mother is still here, just in another form." He paused for a long moment, closing his eyes. " I think she is the wind. It is wild and free as she was."

Heracles grined broadly at the Turk, clapping him on the back. "Beautiful story Sadi. It reminds me of this one my mom told me..."

And so the Turk and the Greek sat together, and they talked and shared stories, and they wept (though if you ask them they'll deny it) and all the mutual hatred between them was momentarily forgotten as they spoke fondly for their fore bearers.

And the winds of heaven blew fondly on both their houses.

I usually don't do big long notes at the end of my fics, but this one is very special, so I felt that it needed them.

At ten o'clock am, September 10th , my mother was pronounced dead in her home. I'd grown very distant with my mother in recent years, so it was hard to force myself to mourn at first. She was my mother though, and I did love her very much. We picked flowers and laughed and read stories all the time when I was still small, and it is those memories that I've chosen to hold on to, rather than her sickness. I do regret that I had not told her in many years that I did love her, now that I'll never get that chance again. She wanted to have her ashes sprinkled on Chesapeake Bay, but her parents made the arrangements to have her buried before I could protest.

Also, recently there have been terrible floods in Turkey, which have killed many, many people. Among the stories of the destruction I happened across a particularly tragic story, a young mother of two had drowned in the flood, leaving behind two pre-teen sons. I couldn't help but feel personally sorry for them. My condolences go out to the family she left behind, as well as everyone who lost a loved one in the flooding.

The fable of the boy being reincarnated into grain is actually a real fairy tale which comes from China. It was, indeed, my mother's favorite and she read it to me often. I do believe she'll be reincarnated, just like she taught me to believe.

'May the winds of heaven blow fondly upon our houses' is an old Cherokee blessing. My mother had it written on her walls.

I was asked to write my own mother's eulogy, and this just sort of spawned from my brainstorming. Sorry if Greece and Turkey seem too out of character, I was aiming more for the message than perfect characterization.

...end long rambly annotations.