[WP] “Thats the thing you mortals do that we, despite all our power, can’t. I’m begging you to teach me how.

“But it is impossible,” I told him.

“No, it isn’t, you just aren’t willing to try,” Hua replied. “You have to teach me. My father put forth a contest, whoever will surprise him will win the right to rule his lands. And I can make you wealthy beyond all Earthly measure.”

This being sat across the table from me, asking me to do the one thing his kind could never do. I had gotten to know Hua, and the other Celestial, over the course of the past few weeks. I was, in a way, an official human representative to them. I saw their kingdoms and beauty and splendor and never felt more foreign than I did from the first initial step into their world.

To their credit, they were incredibly kind and humble. They never made me feel like I didn’t belong, even if I was an outsider, it was more of a respectful curiosity than one of ignorant cruelty.

They asked me questions about life on Earth. I told them about the good and the bad. The beautiful and ugly. Life and death. Death. That’s the one thing these Celestials did not have. Their population grew incredibly slow, two born every hundred years or so, and none of them have ever died. Hua wasn’t asking me how to die. No, he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to experience that.

He wanted to learn how to grieve. An emotion those that have everything and lose nothing may never experience. Sure, they experienced sadness from time to time. Jealousy and anger were uncommon, but still a part of their emotional set. But grieving for someone or something? That was impossible.

I explained to him our complicated funeral rites. Some humans are buried. Some are cremated. Some are loved. Some are scorned. He, and the others, found it fascinating. The Celestials soon joined me on the other side, on Earth’s side, and introduced themselves. But they had one strict rule: They could not interfere with our affairs. No one would be allowed to help us.

There were a few hiccups. They didn’t quite understand the concept of currency and one Celestial was attacked by a crazed madman (who did no damage to the Celestial Tria). They kept their distance and observed from afar. But soon, the curiosity was gone and only three Celestials would make the trip to Earth. Hua was one of them. And he is asking me how to grieve.

“Have you ever lost someone?” I asked.

“Like, forever?”

“Yes, forever. Like one moment they are alive, the next moment they aren’t?”

“No, we don’t die,” Hua answered.

“If none of you can die, none of you can experience grief,” I said.

We remained friends for the next ten years. His father’s contest was still active. No one brought the King anything new. Even those that frequented Earth tried to impress him with some of our priceless artifacts, but they were mundane and didn’t raise any interest.

“Hua, I’m afraid I have some good news and bad news for you,” I told him one day.

He was an infrequent visitor of Earth these days. He maybe stopped by once every four or five months. The Celestials, despite their power, were frequently bored and moved on. Humans, on the other hand, were obsessed and still wanted to know more.

“Well, what is it?” he asked.

“How much do you value me as a friend?” I asked.

“A great deal. I apologize if I haven’t visited as frequently as I used to but you know…” he said. “Well, then, this is good news, at least for you. I’m getting older. I’m 87 years old right now. I wouldn’t have much time even if I was in perfect health. But I have stage four cancer and don’t have much longer to live,” I said.

He looked down at his feet. “Do you want me to help? I’m sure our…” he stopped himself because he knew he couldn’t. No one was even sure if their medicine or doctors would even work on our bodies.

“No, I’ve had a good time here. My body is in frequent pain. I’m just so tired,” I replied.

Hua visited me every day the last three months I spent in the hospital.

He would hold my hand and sing songs in his native language and recite poetry no other human ever heard. He brought me to his world one last time. He and I sat in the the middle of his city’s main square and others looked at me, not knowing the battle inside my body was coming to a close.

He grabbed his lyre and told me he wrote this song for me.

A haunting, beautiful, and mournful song came out from his lyre and he sang his final goodbye to me. People from all over came to listen to this new song, this new poetry, this new emotion. Those who heard it felt the pain that Hua felt in losing a good friend. Even his father came out of his palace to hear this melody being played. The song pierced his heart, and for the first in a very long time, he discovered something new and worthwhile. Hua held my hand as I shut my eyes for the last time.

“Thank you friend, for everything”