“Tell me… do you ever feel a strange sadness as dusk falls?”
Today I received “Twilight Princess” as a very thoughtful Mother’s Day gift. Nine years ago, for Christmas, my grandmother bought me my first Wii game. It was also “Twilight Princess”.
That game was ultimately robbed from me before I ever got to finish it years ago. But, it always had my favorite Zelda artwork, its dungeons were epic, and it’s beauty never escaped my memory.
I knew this game was great. However, what I never imagined, was how nearly a decade later, on Mother’s Day, it’s opening words would fill me with a feeling which exceeds nostalgia. A sweet pain that comes with losing such an important person who you never thought you would be able live without.
My grandmother passed away. She did anything for anyone. And that is not some exaggeration for the dead. She was the kindest woman, so kind the neighborhood called her Sugar. “She’s going straight to heaven, that Sugar!” they would say.
I still cry over the loss of my grandparents, occasionally. I still smell the dried up rose petals from her funeral. I still hold my grandfather’s handkerchief to my heart. I miss them so much.
I never missed a Mother’s Day for her. I always sent her flowers no matter what little money I had. She said she wished I wouldn’t. But this was a woman who moved mountains for me. Who would scratch my feet, rub my back, excuse my behaviors no matter how obscene, rude, or strange. She didn’t always understand me, but she trusted and loved me unconditionally. I tried my hardest to always make her proud.
This Mother’s Day gift, my Twilight Princess, is a very special one. A closure I needed, during a holiday where I feel grief, with a game which will be forever tied to my heart strings.
It all fits together, like the strange sadness we sometimes feel at dusk.