She slept in his bed sometimes, ignoring the fact that it was too small and uncomfortable, not caring that she rose from it with an aching back having gotten little sleep. She didn’t sleep much anyway, and she couldn’t stand to think of his bed sitting empty, no life stirring in his room.

For nine years he had been her reason for existing. The long hours she had spent bent over her workstation, cleaning computer parts until her eyes ached and her back screamed--it had all been for him. She didn’t need the extra money, but it had meant so much to be able to provide him with just a little more than he would have had otherwise. Giving to him was her joy in life.

She sighed, rolling over to stare at the wall and the shelves where all of little scrap pieces of electronics that he had brought home from the shop still sat. She hadn’t had the heart to pack them away, even though she knew he would never return to use them. Her eyes traveled the shelves, taking in the little things he had built over the years, the little bits and pieces that were all she had left of him.

Her eyes fell on C-3P0, sitting in the corner. She’d been so lonely for any part of her son that she’d started talking to the ‘droid, activating it during the day to help her with simple tasks around the house. No matter how inconsequential the words it said, it helped her to hear the words of another being during the long, lonely days.

When the loneliness threatened to overtake her she tried to imagine what he’d be doing right now. Flying through the galaxy on adventures, learning to use the powers that she had recognized in him even as a baby. She had always known that there was something special about her baby, something in the way those blue eyes could stare into hers and give her a reason for living. She had despaired so many times that she couldn’t give him the life he deserved . . .

When he had left, it had taken every ounce of courage in her body to stand there, watching him go. The minute he had turned the corner she groped her way blindly into her house, locked the door and fell to the floor, sobbing as if her heart had been ripped out. It had been night before she stopped crying, and the next morning before she gathered herself up enough to move from her spot on the floor.

The Jedi--he was a blessing, and a curse. He had fulfilled her greatest dream and realized her worst nightmare at the same time. Her baby would live the life he was meant to--would do great things and help the galaxy become a better place to live in. He was meant for more than a slave’s life, she had known that from the beginning.

But the nightmare that had caused her to sit up in her bed gasping night after night was now a nightmare no longer, but stark reality. Her son--her life--was gone. To bigger and better things, her mind said. Gone! cried her heart. Even now, months later, tears came to her eyes as she realized that she was alone in the small house. No bright blue eyes would meet hers and beg for extra dessert. No petulant mouth would pout at her when she told him that it was time for bed. She would never again hear his excited and triumphant laughter as he figured out how some gadget was put together.

Her only consolation was the good he would do. Her son would be a great man, a hero. He would right the wrongs of the world, bring the Republic to the farthest reaches of the galaxy. He would be a great Jedi Master--and the people of the Republic would look to him for guidance.

It was enough. Barely, but enough. As long as his life was happy, she could live without him. Please let it be worth it. Let me look back in forty years and bless the day I let him walk from my life. Never make me regret my decision. If only that can happen, I can live with myself.

There was no answer from the dull walls, and Shmi began to cry again.

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