The Hero Dies In This One

All of my life I have been drawn to stories with the classic and predictable happy ending. The type of story that creates a wave of emotion through your body and leaves you happy, and satisfied, and dreaming of your own happily ever after.

Of course, through growing up it becomes unsettlingly obvious that not all stories are destined for this type of ending.

Otherwise - we would all be walking around blissfully happy and in love, our dreams would be met with struggle but would ultimately fall into place, everyone would reach a time in their life with no more pain or sacrifice,

every villain would be taken down,

and heroes would never die.

This story begins with a young girl; born into a family of pure love and endless support. Though the people in her life have their own stories, it felt to her as though they had only just begun when she entered the world.

With each passing day she started to grow up and learn new things about herself and life. The more she learned the more she realized what a scary place the world could be. Scraped knees brought physical pain, dark rooms introduced fear, mean kids led to increasing insecurities, and the desperation for a happily ever after brought sadness and loneliness.

Through it all though there was one constant in her life that brought her joy through imagination, laughter, and the idea that happy endings were possible.

The world seemed less of a scary place in his presence. It was as if the outside world faded away and in its place was the freedom of wonder. She was no longer defined by who she was, but rather who she imagined she could be.

In his presence there was a flame that burned bright inside of her. It fueled her creative spirit and achievements. She loved to write, to read, to draw, to create imaginary worlds, to learn new things, and to celebrate the little joys in life. She was told she was smart, and beautiful, and creative; and she believed it. She trusted in him so completely, and he held a piece of her heart with a sense of safe keeping.

She was his little princess, and he was her hero.

As she grew older and left the safety of her small town, she was nervous but unafraid. She knew if she needed it that place of wonder was inside of her. The flame that had grown throughout her childhood still burned brightly. Until the day that it didn’t.

There's no way of knowing what day it actually was, for it had gradually dimmed over time. With every added responsibility, worry, and experience in her life, she ignored that tiny flicker of a flame still burning, still holding on. Until it could hold on no longer.

She had a good life; still filled with love, although not as pure, and support, although far less endless. Being so far away, he was no longer there to reassure her that she was smart, and beautiful, and creative, so she stopped believing it. She stopped believing that the world was full of possibilities, and she built an emotional wall to block out her authentic and creative spirit.

The passing decades of her life had brought with it many villains to fight, and with each one she grew stronger and more capable of slaying them on her own. However, one villain crept into her life without her even knowing. The silent and quick villain of illness. This brought back a fear, and a pain, and a sadness that surpassed any she had felt before. It was not her own illness, but that of her hero. The one who had given her a safe space while growing up; that feeling of peace and the freedom of wonder.

It had been so long since she had turned to him for comfort, for hope, for encouragement; but it was always there. Like your favorite childhood blanket tucked away at the back of your closet, forgotten but never gone. Now there was the threat that it would be taken away, never to be reached for again.

A sense of shock kept her from grieving the loss that was to come. As long as she held onto the hope of a happy ending, no harm could come to him. Until the day that it did.

Sitting next to his bed as he rested peacefully, she knew she had to stay strong. There were people in her life that would need her help through this grief, and she knew he would want her to be the one to do it. As he took his last breath it was as if all of the magic was sucked out of the air and replaced with an empty feeling of loss. As though all of the pieces of him that were connected to her began to float away.

Months went by before she was finally able to let in the emotion and truly grieve the piece of her heart that had been taken. It was as if she finally realized that there was no going back. No returning to the days of the imagination and comfort of her childhood. There was no more hope for happily ever after. The one thing had happened that never does in those stories, the hero had died.

A few years later she strolled through the park, book in hand, searching for the perfect place to spend a quiet afternoon. Suddenly a beam of sunlight streaked her face and a sense of warmth and comfort ran through her body. She stopped, and in this moment of stillness she began to reflect and think back to the comforts of her childhood. She thought of her creative spirit that had been stripped from her, her sense of wonder and joy in the little things that she hadn’t felt in such a long time, and the light that once shone bright inside of her that had since been extinguished. She thought back to the way she felt as a child and how it all felt tied to him. Except it wasn’t.

As she closed her eyes and let the sun rest on her face, she felt his presence. Everything he had brought out in her as a child was always inside of her. She just needed to take a moment to reflect on how she could connect it to the person she was now. She was still creative, and imaginative, and smart, and hopeful. She owed it to herself, and to him, to be the person he knew she could be; to find joy in the little things, to be open to love, and to believe in the beauty and magic of life.

It was in that moment of reflection that she felt it. So small inside of her was the faintest flicker of a flame. It wasn’t the one she had felt all those years ago though. This one felt different. This one felt both calm and powerful at the same time; subtle, but steady. It was not just her flame that she felt, it was his too. For the first time in a very long time she felt connected to him and she felt connected to her more authentic self.

Once his little princess, she was now the keeper of his flame. She knew her new purpose was to burn as brightly as he did so she could pass it on to the next person who needed a little hope and the belief in happily ever after.

The hero may have died in this one, but he lives forever within her heart.

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Dedicated to my Papa.

I wish I could tell you how much you impacted my life, and were the inspiration that ignited my creative soul. You will forever by in my heart.