The Battle of Endor is over and Anakin Skywalker is coming to terms with his place.
I've been here several times before. Some of the happiest moments in my life - the other life - were spent right here. The flowers fill the air with a summery sweetness. It feels warm, like the sun on your face in the morning, and inside is home. I make it as far as to the edge of the enclosed garden and my courage deserts me again. Not today.
I reveled in having cheated death in the war, each time more arrogant than the last until finally I sold my soul - my life forfeit for power over death. It is these thoughts that leave me sobbing on the ground, my face in my hands, galled by the audacity I possessed in thinking I could come here. I do not deserve what I come here for, but I always come back, for nothing else than to bask in the nearness of peace.
I know what you're thinking. I am lucky to even be here, in this place. It is by the grace of all that is Light that I am here. The goodness that came out of that Light pardoned me at the end.
So it goes.
I come here and I feel her presence nearby and it is enough. It has to be, at least for now. I commanded armies and decided the fate of others at my whim, but I cannot cross this precipice. So I wait. I wander out here in the in-between while my loved ones that lived on go about their lives.
I'm a name mentioned in warning to others that live in the Light. I'm a weight on my namesake, a burden to overcome and a point to be proven. I do not feel sorry for myself. I deserve this shame and so much more - in that existence, before I found my way back.