Snefnugg dalede stille ned over Botanisk Have i København.

Snowflakes gently drifted down over Botanisk Have in København.

De tykke lag af sne dækkede træernes grene, mens en isende vind strøg gennem parkens stier.

The thick layers of snow covered the branches of trees while an icy wind swept through the park's paths.

Luften var frisk, fyldt med den stille ro af vinter.

The air was fresh, filled with the quiet calm of winter.

Mellem de snedækkede bænke og stier, fandt Lars, Mette, og Freja deres vej til et familiært sted.

Among the snow-covered benches and paths, Lars, Mette, and Freja found their way to a familiar place.

De tre søskende mødtes ved det gamle egetræ, der stod som en stærk søjle i den tyste have.

The three siblings met at the old oak tree, which stood as a strong pillar in the silent garden.

Her plejede de at tilbringe mange timer som børn, deres forældre smilende ved siden af, med et tæppe spredt ud på det bløde græs.

Here, they used to spend many hours as children, their parents smiling beside them, with a blanket spread out on the soft grass.

Nu var minderne tyst som verden omkring dem.

Now, the memories were as silent as the world around them.

Deres forældre havde været bindeleddet i deres familieliv, og tabet havde sat sine spor.

Their parents had been the bond in their family life, and the loss had left its mark.

Lars, den ældste, havde altid været praktisk.

Lars, the eldest, had always been practical.

Med et lille knirkende smil tog han en gammel kasse frem.

With a small creaking smile, he took out an old box.

Det var en familieklenodie, fyldt med gamle billeder og breve.

It was a family heirloom, filled with old pictures and letters.

"Det her minder os om, hvor vi kommer fra," sagde han med beslutsomhed.

"This reminds us of where we come from," he said with determination.

"Vi har brug for at holde sammen."

"We need to stick together."

Mette, derimod, så trist på kassen.

Mette, on the other hand, looked sadly at the box.

Hun havde en tendens til at svælge i fortiden, tynget af sorgen.

She had a tendency to dwell on the past, burdened by grief.

"Jeg ved det, men det er så svært," hviskede hun, idet hun pustede i sine hænder for at holde varmen.

"I know, but it's so hard," she whispered, blowing into her hands to keep warm.

Hun ønskede blot at holde fast i de minder, der stadig gjorde ondt.

She just wanted to hold on to the memories that still hurt.

Freja, den yngste, med sit kreative sind, havde altid formået at se lys selv i mørke stunder.

Freja, the youngest, with her creative mind, had always managed to find light even in dark times.

Hun kunne føle spændingen mellem Lars og Mette.

She could feel the tension between Lars and Mette.

Med et lille fnis sagde hun: "Husk den gang mor og far tog os på skøjter her?

With a little giggle, she said, "Remember the time mom and dad took us skating here?

Mette, du faldt hele tiden!"

Mette, you kept falling!"

Frejas ukuelige livsglæde brød den kølige luft.

Freja's indomitable joy broke through the chilly air.

Som diskussionen drejede sig om, hvordan bedst at mindes deres forældre, steg spændingen.

As the discussion turned to how best to remember their parents, the tension rose.

Lars ønskede orden, mens Mette ønskede frihed til at sørge.

Lars wanted order, while Mette wanted the freedom to grieve.

Diskutionen nåede sit højdepunkt, da stemmer steg og brydes i den stille have.

The argument reached its peak as voices rose and broke the silence of the garden.

Men midt i tumulten fortalte Freja en historie.

But amidst the turmoil, Freja told a story.

Freja begyndte at tale om et minde fra deres barndom, en dag hvor deres far havde lært dem alle at plante blomster i haven.

Freja began to speak of a memory from their childhood, a day when their father had taught them all to plant flowers in the garden.

Hans latter havde fået selv solen til at skinne.

His laughter had made even the sun shine.

"Det er det deres arv betyder," sagde Freja, "kærlighed og sammenhold, selv i modgang."

"That's what their legacy means," said Freja, "love and unity, even in adversity."

Hendes ord fyldte luften, som et kærtegn fra fortiden.

Her words filled the air, like a caress from the past.

De tre søskende stillede, og et nyt bånd blev støbt under det gamle egetræs bredde grene.

The three siblings quieted, and a new bond was forged under the wide branches of the old oak tree.

Lars indså, at alle havde ret til at sørge på deres egen måde.

Lars realized that everyone had the right to mourn in their own way.

Han så på sine søstre med ny forståelse.

He looked at his sisters with new understanding.

"Lad os gøre dette til en tradition," foreslog han, "vi mødes her hvert år for at mindes dem, sammen."

"Let's make this a tradition," he suggested, "we meet here every year to remember them, together."

Mette smilede gennem tårerne, og Freja nikkede ivrigt.

Mette smiled through her tears, and Freja nodded eagerly.

Under det spejlblanke dække af sne fandt de en ny ro,—en fælles forståelse, en fælles tråd.

Under the mirror-like cover of snow, they found a new peace—a shared understanding, a common thread.

Livet gik videre, men deres forældres ånd levede videre i dem.

Life went on, but their parents' spirit lived on in them.

De gik gennem den snedækkede have, fyldt med håb om en lysere fremtid, uadskillelige i hinanden og i minderne om deres elskede forældre.

They walked through the snow-covered garden, filled with hope for a brighter future, inseparable in each other and in the memories of their beloved parents.