“So you don’t remember anything? Of your parents?” Jean asked.
“Sometimes if I close my eyes, I think I can remember my mother’s voice, a young and happy voice, is probably the best and closest memory I have.” the younger man said, he sounded nostalgic, but calm, as if he was already used to the feeling of not having a family of blood.
“It must have been very complicated and difficult for you, on your own.”
Jean Valjean himself didn’t remember his mother or father, it had been so long time…
“Must have been very hard for you too, sir… Not being able to see your family, like you told me, to give them support…” Feuilly said, as he sat next to the older man, taking off his beret, the copper-colored hair messed up and a little dirty with dust.
“It was, son, it was… My sister and I were still young when it happened. Maybe if I had been more careful… Or more patient… I couldn’t even see my nephew afterwards… Not sure if he survived….” Jean smiled sadly, touching the palm of one hand with the other’s fingers. He suddenly remembered his sweet little nephew, holding his hand as they gathered fire together outside during the nightfall.
“I know what it’s like to miss the people we care about. I can understand very well what it feels like to be unable to protect them.” the younger man replied, sighing deeply while he glanced at one of his friends passing with a gun in his hand.
“Whatever happens, my good boy, the important thing isn’t exactly to be with them forever, but never, ever to forget them. Never break your promises and never stop struggling for a better life for yourself and others.”
Feuilly’s heart warmed with those simple words of wisdom. Was that the feeling of having a father?
“Your nephew, sir… He would be very proud of you if you could see him right now. I bet he would admire you as much as I do.”
Jean Valjean smiled, staring at the night sky. Even though he didn’t know that his nephew could be alive, anywhere, even beside him at that very moment, he knew that no matter what had happened or what was to come, he was also too proud of the family he had and the people he met through that suffered journey. And for them, for Fantine, for Cosette, and for that sweet and gentle working boy, he would do it all over again, thousands and thousands of times.
I’m pretty sure Feuilly would admire Valjean A Lot, and now I can’t stop imagining them talking about their lives at the barricade
Published
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