The evolution of basic was a long one, and in the oldest documents you'll find from the Republic the words are all different. You wouldn't even be able to understand them, now. The original word for "return" was nostos - algos meant "suffering." Nostalgia is, in root, the suffering caused by an unappeased yearning to return. In each language throughout the galaxy these words have a different semantic nuance, but always they carry the sadness caused by the impossibility of ever really going back.
The rain was coming down thick, slanting gray ropes slamming into loose earth, plowing it up like blasterfire. The old governor's home had been left to it's burnt shell for over eight years, gabled roof pulled over crumbling exterior like a low hat. The walls, streaked with moss, had grown soft, and bulged a little with dampness that seeped up from the ground.
Qui-Gon supposed it hadn't been torn down sooner because Xanatos wouldn't allow it. Now, though, now it was coming down. There was noone left to hold on to the past.
He wondered, standing there in the worst of the rain, what his former apprentice had seen when he looked at it. Why he'd wanted it left standing at all.
When Qui-Gon looked at it, what he saw was the day he'd first come to Telos with Dooku, several dozen years ago, still wearing a padawan braid himself. When the house had been newly built, and the smell of sypherglaze on the walls was fresh. A beautiful sentient woman crying as her child was pulled out of her arms, a prideful father who reluctantly assured her that it was for the best.
Standing there in the rain, Qui-Gon could remember blue eyes expanse like sky staring up into his face as he assured the family that the Jedi would take care of their son.
A crack of lightning - the demolition workers grunted in annoyance at the weather as they craned large durasteel machines to crack apart walls. His long hair a shock of swollen twine, tangling into the hood of his robe and the neck of his tunic. Qui-Gon's hands limp at side, a finger twitching so often as he blinked the stinging water from his eyes and watched white tufts of sheetplaster crumble in on itself.
To the workers who were unaware of the house and it's history and of the old man who was a Jedi that watched in the rain, all they saw was another outlived structure from a time gone.