'On a bier at the end of the room lay Luke Skywalker--like a body stretched out for a funeral.
Leia's hart thumped with dread. She wanted to turn around and leave so she wouldn't have to look at him--but Leia found her feet carrying her forward. She walked with a rapid step that became a run before she reached the end the of the promenade. Han came carrying ther twins, one in each arm. His eyes were red as he fought to keep tears from flowing. Leia already felt a wetness on her cheeks.
Luke lay in repose, swathed in his Jedi robe. His hair had been combed; his hands were folded acrost his chest. His skin looked grey and plasticlike.
"oh, Luke," Leia whispered.
She reached out to touch him. Using her abilities with the Force, she tried to reach deeper, to brush against his life force--but she felt only a cold hole, an emptiness, as if Luke himself had been taken away.
Not dead.
He could not be dead...