Bury Parents in Their Graves, Children in Your Hearts

Irreparable Sadness It started off as just another day that started with Dora's nagging, despite all the hard work I was doing for us. An old gray-haired woman asked in a trembling voice if anyone was in, before carefully opening the door to my workplace and entering very slowly. A belt woven from wood was held tightly in her hands. I looked at her questioningly, so politely the old crone calmly began to unravel her yarn of a story. She had lost her husband at war, and raised her son by herself. He was her pride and joy and grew up to be a good man. However, one late night, he saw a gang trying to steal a drunk's jewelry. He tried to intervene, and he... That's where she stopped, overwhelmed by her tears. She handed over to me the belt her son wore since childhood. It was a belt that his father, her husband, had made him before he left for war. Even though I was swamped with orders, the moment she handed me the belt I felt that I could not deny her anything.