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They say a woman tends to "fall in love with her father." Not literally, of course, but that the man she loves will be like her father. Well, and "they" of course being Rikku. I guess it's an old Al Bhed saying. Maybe that's why she's still single - there aren't too many men on Spira like Uncle Cid.
It always bothered me when she would say that. All of my memories of my father were through a seven-year-old's eyes. I wondered, what could that tell me about the man I would love and want to marry? If the saying were true, he'd have to be brave, passionate and loving. He'd have to be fiercely loyal above all things, protective, and know his heart. Maybe seven-year-old me was wiser than I thought.
I thought about that saying and what it meant a lot during our search for the truth about those spheres we found, about Shuyin, and through the battle with Vegnagun. Do you remember that? I told you all about it the first time I visited after the Guado stabilized the Farplane. I was unsure of so many things during that time. I barely knew who I was, let alone if I could truly love someone else. For my whole life, I'd been "Braska's daughter," then the summoner on the path to her own death - to defeat Sin - and after that the High Summoner who lived. I've always been identified with someone else, as something else. I've never been just plain Yuna. I know you understand that, having your life defined by someone else. But we both chose our paths, didn't we? You didn't regret it, and neither did I.
I wanted to claim my life for myself when I joined the Gullwings, the way you'd never had a chance to do. Everything I'd known from the past - that we'd both known - was gone. It was time to start anew. And then those spheres had appeared. I thought that maybe it was a sign I actually did know enough about myself to pursue love, or what I thought was love. Either way, I had to find out.
And now I know. We won, we succeeded, and now I should have my "happily ever after." Right? Then why do I feel more uncertain than before? I mean, I'm here instead of enjoying my reward - doesn't that say something? I keep coming here, talking to you, and wondering if I had it all wrong the entire time. Every time I try to go and live my life for myself the way everyone says I should, it feels selfish and wrong. So I come here, and I wonder what you would do in my situation. I wonder what my father would do if he could have lived after defeating Sin. He wouldn't want to relax in Besaid, or party all night in Luca, or find ways to make money off of others' suffering. He'd see the injustices and needs in Spira and want to make them all right, because he'd know that if he could defeat Sin, he could do anything. He'd want to continue to serve.
We're all compelled to serve, aren't we? My father, myself... and you. That's the bond we share, and it's something nobody else seems to understand. They think I don't know what I want, and that they know best. Even my friends! Just because they're not trying to marry me or take advantage of me, the pressure to turn my back on the wrongs in Spira and just relax and enjoy life is just as bad. It feels wrong. You always let me trust my own heart and make my own decisions, even if you didn't agree with them. You knew I was strong enough to live with the consequences. You supported my right to do things the way I wanted, when nobody else would. I miss that.
I miss you.
I come here more often than I should. I can almost hear your words. "Yuna," you'd say, with that sharp rasp in your voice, "Your thoughts belong in the future, not in the past. You're young. Make a difference. Write your story now!"
And I'm trying, I really am, I promise! I just miss you, more than I missed him, even. I didn't realize it until it was all over, and I got what I thought I wanted. I guess I still don't know myself like I thought I did.
It makes me so angry that I've only realized this now. Of course, it wouldn't have made a difference three years ago. You were single-minded, and I was a scared, naive child. That you made me feel safe, made my way clear, touched my heart in deeper ways than anyone else could was lost on me. At the time I wanted a distraction - I wanted to lose myself, forget that my world was falling apart around me. I wanted something pretty, something different, something crazy. I wanted to rebel, like any teenager.
Now that the dust has settled, it's obvious the Al Bhed are right. You were so like my father in so many ways. I see them now, now that you're ageless, gazing back at me from across the thin veil we've both danced through too many times. I know it's better this way, but it doesn't quiet the voice that asks "what if" every time I come here, and "what now" every time I leave.
It grows harder every time I return to him. He knows something's changing, and he doesn't understand. I don't know how to explain to him that young love - first love - doesn't always last. I'm not the same girl I was at seventeen, and he is the same boy. I don't know how to explain to him - or anyone - that I love you and don't know what to do about it.
Tell me, Auron, what do I do?
I can see it on your face. Your lips twist in a certain way when you're annoyed. "Leave this place, Yuna, and don't come back!" you'd say. You fought so hard to be free of your past; I know you'd hate to see me trapped by mine.
I still don't know enough about the Farplane to know whether or not you can really hear me. Maybe what matters more is that I say it, rather than if you hear it. I love you. I love everything you stood for, the way you carried yourself, and the way you lived your life. It's the way I want to live my life, and if... when I fall in love again, it will be with a man who lives his life like you did. A man like my father.