The cleansing was now complete.....not just of the room, but of their hearts, their grief, and their burdens. One by one, they came downstairs to Grandmother, sharing everything they had witnessed in Talotkan's room. Finally, they handed her the letter.
Grandmother read it slowly, her hands trembling. From her heart escaped a whisper of gratitude.....for that gentle child, merely twenty-four years of age, had shown such wisdom, such profound understanding, and above all, the weight she had placed upon Grandmother's teachings.
Looking into each tear-filled eye, Grandmother spoke with the gentlest voice,
"Now… it is time to move forward. This was Talotkan's final wish. We must live happily...not only for ourselves, but for her as well."
She then asked for a promise from them all: that they would strive to live in joy, no matter how difficult, so that Talotkan's spirit could rest in peace.
And her words gave them strength....a fragile courage to face tomorrow.
Days passed into weeks. Weeks melted into months. And months blossomed into a year.
At last, the awaited day arrived.....the day Phop Rak was to sow the jasmine seeds. It was summer, yet the morning's rain had cooled the air and filled the atmosphere with freshness. Everyone had gathered together, their faces radiant like blooming flowers, for this was the day they had all longed for: the month of July, when jasmine seeds would be planted.
Phop Rak knelt, dug a small hole, and gently sowed the seeds.
Suddenly...a soft, chilling gust of wind swept through.
Everyone laughed.
For they all knew.....whenever someone remembered Talotkan with happiness, a sudden cool breeze would always arrive.
Even in death, Talotkan was everywhere in their home, always up to her little mischiefs: switching off the TV, releasing the goats, turning off the cooking stove. And each time, she was scolded by Yim and Pranee, just as she always had been in life. They all knew it well: Talotkan still lived among them, mischievous as ever.
After planting the seeds, laughter filled the corridors as they sat together, gossiping, teasing, and roaring in joy. Soon, customers began to arrive, and Yim and Phop Rak went off to manage the shop.
Meanwhile, Pranee sat beside Grandmother, whispering of her wish to open a school for poor children.....to fulfill her brother's unfinished dream. Grandmother, with her heart as vast as the sky, gave her full support. And just then, another playful gust of wind blew through, showering them with dried leaves. Talotkan's little prank. She, too, approved of the dream.
Later that evening, over dinner, Pranee shared her plan with Yim and Phop Rak. Their joy was immeasurable, for Pranee had long carried this dream in her heart. She had even saved money to buy a piece of land.
Months passed.
Finally, the family rejoiced...land for the free school had been bought. Construction would soon begin. At the same time, the jasmine plant had grown, its leaves spreading gently in the summer air, doubling their happiness.
Another dream was about to bloom.
Years slipped by.
The school was now alive, overflowing with children. Their laughter echoed across the courtyards. Yim had been entrusted by Pranee to manage the dream, and over the years, she had done so with unwavering devotion. Only those who truly wished to heal society were chosen as teachers.
And this school was unlike any other....it was a sanctuary. Alongside education, children learned to heal animals (something Yim herself taught), to serve society, to help others, and even to master the art of sign language.
Yet, above all these wonders, one thing stood out.....a single tree at the heart of the school.
They named it Miss Fate.
It was none other than Talotkan's mischievous plant, now grown tall and strong, its branches spreading hope like wings. To the children and the townsfolk, it was sacred. They believed every wish tied upon its branches would come true. And so, every day, countless little notes fluttered from its limbs, carrying the dreams of innocent hearts.
Yim spent much of her time beside this tree, remembering Talotkan.
Seasons changed.
Phop Rak eventually married, though late in life. Grandmother passed away, leaving her blessings behind. The school grew in strength, a beacon of hope for generations. Yim grew old as well, her hair turning silver with time.
Phop Rak and his wife struggled for years before finally being blessed with a daughter. They named her Uni. She, too, studied at The Gentle Heart Institute.....the very school Yim had nurtured like her own child.
Through the decades, Yim never married. She had no family of her own, yet she was mother to all. To the children, she was "Great Mother." To Uni, she was a second parent. And Phop Rak, seeing the joy in his daughter's eyes, was content.
But as Grandmother had once said, "No one remains in this world forever."
Yim, after a lifetime spent in memory of Talotkan, finally departed this world. Around her neck, till her last breath, hung the pendant she had cherished.
That pendant was preserved within The Gentle Heart Institute, in a special room. Upon a grand wall filled with photographs, Talotkan's picture hung at the top. Beside it, Phop Rak placed the pendant and Yim's photograph. Below them was Grandmother's picture.....three generations of love and sacrifice bound forever in memory.
The Gentle Heart Institute became Phop Rak's legacy, and later, it would pass to Uni.
And now, dear reader, it is time for your author to take leave.
Thus ends Season One of this tale.
We shall meet again in Season Two.
Until then....take care of yourself.
And thank you, from the depths of my heart, for reading my story.