DEAD SONS DAY

DEAD SONS DAY – 9/16/2003

The middle point of the Latter Year is marked with a celebration known as “Dead Son’s Day”.
The story goes that in a time before the lowlands were settled, the creator of Raynor Shine sent his son to teach the races how to live in peace, as one with each other under the protection of the peaks.
His son went door to door telling everyone he met the reasons and rewards of harmony and equality. He told them of his fathers plan to make this place the same as his home and how by simply believing it was true, all creatures could be in his fathers house, no matter where or who they were.
The people loved his message, but the elders of the races found his words dangerous and his ideals to be wrong. For if everyone was created to be just like his father, then why were there giants and Leprechauns, elves and men?
The elders decided that the son had to shown that only one race was the one his father made. And when he did not listen to them men hung him on a cross until he died.
Soon the weaker races faded and everyone feared that his father would fade them too, so on the day his son was born, the races made great feasts and joined together as one people.
Soon the races decided that if they moved the day to the middle of Latter Year, it would be easier on most since they observed High Point, and changed the name to Dead Sons Day.
For most High Point meant that the Latter Year was nearly over, and it would soon be time to observe The Change. By marking that day with Dead Sons Day, it would be easier to remember the lost races.
Now there is a great feast held by all the races, foods and songs are shared in The Vale. Well wishing and exchanging of goods and services in pragmatic displays of the sorrow for the son’s message. In the last hour of the celebration, the first born sons of each family are hung on cross’ and carried to the top of The Peaks in offering for the ignorance of the forefathers.
My family would take the day hard, for they gave their first begotten son to appease the creator. I was made to replace the first and in doing so corrupted the dreams they had for their first son.
I suppose they understand better than most the lost hopes and pride the creator felt when his son was draped over a cross and left hanging in agony by those to ignorant and afraid to understand.
They know full well the derision of a scornful parent and the need to punish those left behind who would do or know better…

I was never a fan of Dead Sons Day. It only served to remind me how inconsequential I was in the memory of accomplishment cut short. The dream that never died, but also never bloomed and in its hollow wake, a pale imitation grew, never good enough, nor quite the same…