This was inspired by English class. In class, we were studying our poetry unit, and Mrs. DeFord handed us a sheet of paper with the poem "Cross of Snow" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. It really spoke to me (even though I generally prefer Emerson) and it made me think of Ed for some reason xD

Now I know in this poem, Longfellow is lamenting the loss of his wife. And in this picture, Edward is lamenting the loss of his mother. But without the context of what kind of love it is, it's fairly versatile. And I think this is how Edward would feel after his mother died, especially having held her hand while her life slipped away.

His shoulders are a little narrow. Woops xD

In the long, sleepless watches of the night,
A gentle face--the face of one long dead--
Looks at me from the wall, where round its head
The nightlamp casts a halo of pale light.
Here in this room, she died, and soul more white
Never through martyrdom of fire was led
To its repose; nor can in books be read
The legend of a life more benedight.
There is a mountain in the distant West
That, sun-defying, in its deep ravines
Displays a cross of snow upon its side.
Such is the cross I wear upon my breast
These eighteen years, through all the changing scenes
And seasons, changeless since the day she died.