And for Phop Rak,
she had written with the warmth only a sister could hold:
"Phop Rak, you are the dearest little brother in this world.
I love you more than words can ever say.
You are my mischievous little star,
but even in your mischief, you hold my heart."
Along with the letter,
she had placed a small pouch of seeds.....
jasmine seeds, pure and fragrant even in their silence.
She had written:
"I want you to plant these.
Take care of them, watch them grow,
let them bloom under your care.
This jasmine is not just a flower, Phop Rak…
it is my blessing to you.
Each time it blossoms,
remember me smiling with you."
---
For Grandmother, there were countless letters,
so many that her trembling hands could not even hold them all at once.
But one letter carried something so beautiful
that even silence bent its head in reverence.
"When I was a child,
I once asked you, Grandma.....
why do stars fall from the sky?
Where do they go when they fall?"
And she had written the answer Grandmother once gave her,
engraved forever in her heart:
"You told me that when a star falls,
it seems to us as though it has ended,
as though it has burned out.
But that is not the truth.
A star never dies.
It only leaves its place in the sky
to search for a new home somewhere far away.
And when it finds it,
it shines again...
more radiant, more beautiful than before."
---
Talotkan's words carried the weight of that memory:
"Grandma was right.
Sometimes the end
is nothing more than the beginning of something far more beautiful.
And so, as I leave,
I pray that I too may become like that falling star....
not fading,
but carrying with me a light
to begin anew elsewhere.
A new dawn,
a new glow,
a new beginning."