Emotions hit hard when they are all you have.
My husband James and I have been here for years. I wish I could explain in words how different this place is from the life we once knew. Here you are not alive, you are not dead, nor are you a ghost. You are here for one reason and that one reason alone. If you are in this level of the universe, if you are unfortunate enough to reside with the rest of us, you died at the hands of a Dark force. All that you have left is emotion. Tears and sorrow are a normal occurrence here. You'd expect fluffy white clouds and golden gates, but that's not where we are yet.
James would have been a wonderful father. I remember when we first found out I would be having a baby, James had run out and bought a real broomstick. The look upon his face when I told him a newborn couldn't ride a broomstick ... he was crushed, yet hysterical at the same time. The very next day he had come home with no less than five toy brooms and a miniature set of Quidditch balls. He flat out ignored me when I pointed out a child couldn't ride more than one broomstick at a time. He took it upon himself to decorate the bedroom of our expected child. He adorned the four walls with anything and everything Quidditch. Him and his friends had laughed for hours when I said it was possible our child wouldn't be a fan. Of course I knew any child of James Potter would be a Quidditch fan. He was already calling my tummy his "little boy," a week into the pregnancy. He told me that he just simply knew it was a boy ... and he was right. The first time he held our son, his hazel eyes were dancing. I have never seen him so happy. In the short time we had together as a family, it was pure bliss. The three of us were floating. Maybe deep down I realized it was too perfect to last. It must have been, because our time together was cut extremely short. It's not fair that I only had a year to hold my baby. It's not fair that James never had the chance to play Quidditch with his little boy.
For fifteen years now, my husband and I have had to simply watch. Have you ever had to experience pain? I bet you haven't. It is not possible to experience a feeling so genuine and so horrible unless you are in this position. To watch my son grow up in someone else's hands is beyond tears. I sometimes find James crying, but a mother's pain is past that. I have seen my son through the good times and the bad times, and I have been there for him in ways he cannot recognize. But trust me, I am there. I was there when Hagrid found him in the pile of rubbish that was once our house. I was there when my sister found him on her doorstep. I was there during his most precious years of adolescence, as he spent lonely nights in his cupboard, wondering why his life was the way it was. I was there during his first broomstick ride. I was there when his name was pulled out of the Goblet of Fire. I have watched him go through everything -- his first bruise to his first girlfriend. I am always there. I will always be there.
Pain is when I can't reach out and touch him. He doesn't know I'm there. I cannot give him the knowledge his elders have been denying him. The one thing he has wanted for his entire life has been truth. I want more than anything to give him the truth he wants ... the entire story ... but I can't. Knowing this feels like a knife is twisting through my body. Words don't give my story enough justice. If I was in a place where sanity existed... I would have lost all of it a hundred times over by now. To watch my own sister abusing my baby ... starving him and pushing him down to make her own feel superior. I have watched him be emotionally, and sometimes even physically, abused in that household. At school I watch him fight, I watch him stand up for what he believes in. James enjoys watching him play Quidditch. He is like his father in more ways than anyone recognizes. His pride, his heroic actions, his bravery, his wit, his entire life. But his eyes ... those are mine. Such horror he has seen through those eyes.
About a year ago, my son's school mate had come here. He was the first new face in many years and it was a wonderful and terrible time. I remember him crying endlessly out for his mother and father. I tried to help him, to give him a mother's embrace, but I was not his mother. I could only help so much. He was shocked when I eventually told him who I was. He reassured me that my son was a good boy. Cedric and I cross paths every once in a while ... he watches over his parents constantly. He admitted to me once that although he knew it was selfish, he wished for his parents to come.
When we aren't watching our son, which is only on very rare, brief occasions, we have gazed upon old friends. We watched little back-stabbing Peter Pettigrew, or Scabbers, they called him. How frightened we were when his owner became best friends with our son. We knew someday what it would come to. We watched as our son found out Scabber's true identity, and spared his life. He saved the human being that had only given him a life of terror. James and I were so proud of him. He had helped an enemy, an action that showed so much courage. He will someday see how noble his heart was.
We watched as Remus Lupin sunk into a deep depression. He sat for years in that shabby flat of his, lonely and without a soul to turn to. How we wished we could be there for him. Good old Moony. We watched as he was finally, after so long, offered a job. He helped our son overcome his fears, and at the same time our son helped him sink back into reality. We continue to watch him help our son through such a horrible time. Words do not explain how great this man has been.
James and I didn't expect to see Padfoot so soon. We didn't want to. We used to watch him in his Azkaban cell. Every time I saw him I was in tears. That man was not a murderer. That sweet, energetic, brave man would never betray us. How could they have been so blind? We watched as he escaped, as he found the one who betrayed his best friend, and as he breathed and tasted revenge so viciously. We watched him over the next two years, as he was being chased. He still found it in his heart to play the role of a father to the best of his ability. I was so proud of dear old Padfoot. My happiest moments here were spent watching our son and his Godfather together, laughing. The tears shed at those moments were of sweet, utter happiness. It was the strangest feeling to have salty tears slide down my cheek and a smile on my lips; a feeling I hadn't experienced in so long. He was the closest thing to a parent our son would ever know.
We had seen him coming. James and I were terrified, but there was nothing we could do to stop it, so we waited. As he stood up, we were there to welcome him. He cried for a while. Most do once they enter. He told us he tried to be the Godfather that we would want him to be. I do believe he tried very hard to be a wonderful father figure for our son to look up to, and I am very thankful. I know James was happy to see him, but I was so upset. Our son now was alone. As James and Sirius embraced old times, I went alone to watch the scene. Moony restrained our son from running after Sirius. When he finally broke away I watched him run after Sirius's murderer, threatening her. For the first time, I felt what Cedric had felt. I wanted him to die at her hands so he could be with me. Later I was disgusted with myself for such a selfish thought, but at the time I couldn't help it. I wanted to embrace my son. Hug him, cry to him, yell at him, kiss him, look into his eyes; all the things I have been denied for so long.
But for now, all I can do is watch my son grow up even more. He is turning sixteen soon. He is becoming a man and I will watch him leave his childhood and continue to grow. I will watch him become the most powerful wizard ever in existence. I will watch him marry a woman who loves him with all her heart. Him and his wife will have beautiful children and watch them as I have watched my own child, but they won't have to watch from a distance. The two of them will be wonderful parents. They will love their children endlessly, teaching them everything they know. They will be the parents James and I never had the chance to be. He will be the father James wanted to be so bad. He has to be ... we need him to be. I never want to see my son hurt again.
And as for us ... we will still be here, drowning in tears and sorrow until the day the Dark side is finished. All of us long for that day when we will finally see those golden gates and fluffy white clouds. We know we are close to moving on from what the new arrivals have been saying. Yet at the moment I am stuck in this alternate reality ... still waiting. We are all waiting. We are all waiting for the Dark Lord to be defeated.
My son will be the one to save us. He will be our hero.
And when the day comes when I won't have to simply watch from a distance ... when his time on Earth is finished... I will be ready to embrace him. Harry James Potter, I am waiting for you on the other side.
My husband James and I have been here for years. I wish I could explain in words how different this place is from the life we once knew. Here you are not alive, you are not dead, nor are you a ghost. You are here for one reason and that one reason alone. If you are in this level of the universe, if you are unfortunate enough to reside with the rest of us, you died at the hands of a Dark force. All that you have left is emotion. Tears and sorrow are a normal occurrence here. You'd expect fluffy white clouds and golden gates, but that's not where we are yet.
James would have been a wonderful father. I remember when we first found out I would be having a baby, James had run out and bought a real broomstick. The look upon his face when I told him a newborn couldn't ride a broomstick ... he was crushed, yet hysterical at the same time. The very next day he had come home with no less than five toy brooms and a miniature set of Quidditch balls. He flat out ignored me when I pointed out a child couldn't ride more than one broomstick at a time. He took it upon himself to decorate the bedroom of our expected child. He adorned the four walls with anything and everything Quidditch. Him and his friends had laughed for hours when I said it was possible our child wouldn't be a fan. Of course I knew any child of James Potter would be a Quidditch fan. He was already calling my tummy his "little boy," a week into the pregnancy. He told me that he just simply knew it was a boy ... and he was right. The first time he held our son, his hazel eyes were dancing. I have never seen him so happy. In the short time we had together as a family, it was pure bliss. The three of us were floating. Maybe deep down I realized it was too perfect to last. It must have been, because our time together was cut extremely short. It's not fair that I only had a year to hold my baby. It's not fair that James never had the chance to play Quidditch with his little boy.
For fifteen years now, my husband and I have had to simply watch. Have you ever had to experience pain? I bet you haven't. It is not possible to experience a feeling so genuine and so horrible unless you are in this position. To watch my son grow up in someone else's hands is beyond tears. I sometimes find James crying, but a mother's pain is past that. I have seen my son through the good times and the bad times, and I have been there for him in ways he cannot recognize. But trust me, I am there. I was there when Hagrid found him in the pile of rubbish that was once our house. I was there when my sister found him on her doorstep. I was there during his most precious years of adolescence, as he spent lonely nights in his cupboard, wondering why his life was the way it was. I was there during his first broomstick ride. I was there when his name was pulled out of the Goblet of Fire. I have watched him go through everything -- his first bruise to his first girlfriend. I am always there. I will always be there.
Pain is when I can't reach out and touch him. He doesn't know I'm there. I cannot give him the knowledge his elders have been denying him. The one thing he has wanted for his entire life has been truth. I want more than anything to give him the truth he wants ... the entire story ... but I can't. Knowing this feels like a knife is twisting through my body. Words don't give my story enough justice. If I was in a place where sanity existed... I would have lost all of it a hundred times over by now. To watch my own sister abusing my baby ... starving him and pushing him down to make her own feel superior. I have watched him be emotionally, and sometimes even physically, abused in that household. At school I watch him fight, I watch him stand up for what he believes in. James enjoys watching him play Quidditch. He is like his father in more ways than anyone recognizes. His pride, his heroic actions, his bravery, his wit, his entire life. But his eyes ... those are mine. Such horror he has seen through those eyes.
About a year ago, my son's school mate had come here. He was the first new face in many years and it was a wonderful and terrible time. I remember him crying endlessly out for his mother and father. I tried to help him, to give him a mother's embrace, but I was not his mother. I could only help so much. He was shocked when I eventually told him who I was. He reassured me that my son was a good boy. Cedric and I cross paths every once in a while ... he watches over his parents constantly. He admitted to me once that although he knew it was selfish, he wished for his parents to come.
When we aren't watching our son, which is only on very rare, brief occasions, we have gazed upon old friends. We watched little back-stabbing Peter Pettigrew, or Scabbers, they called him. How frightened we were when his owner became best friends with our son. We knew someday what it would come to. We watched as our son found out Scabber's true identity, and spared his life. He saved the human being that had only given him a life of terror. James and I were so proud of him. He had helped an enemy, an action that showed so much courage. He will someday see how noble his heart was.
We watched as Remus Lupin sunk into a deep depression. He sat for years in that shabby flat of his, lonely and without a soul to turn to. How we wished we could be there for him. Good old Moony. We watched as he was finally, after so long, offered a job. He helped our son overcome his fears, and at the same time our son helped him sink back into reality. We continue to watch him help our son through such a horrible time. Words do not explain how great this man has been.
James and I didn't expect to see Padfoot so soon. We didn't want to. We used to watch him in his Azkaban cell. Every time I saw him I was in tears. That man was not a murderer. That sweet, energetic, brave man would never betray us. How could they have been so blind? We watched as he escaped, as he found the one who betrayed his best friend, and as he breathed and tasted revenge so viciously. We watched him over the next two years, as he was being chased. He still found it in his heart to play the role of a father to the best of his ability. I was so proud of dear old Padfoot. My happiest moments here were spent watching our son and his Godfather together, laughing. The tears shed at those moments were of sweet, utter happiness. It was the strangest feeling to have salty tears slide down my cheek and a smile on my lips; a feeling I hadn't experienced in so long. He was the closest thing to a parent our son would ever know.
We had seen him coming. James and I were terrified, but there was nothing we could do to stop it, so we waited. As he stood up, we were there to welcome him. He cried for a while. Most do once they enter. He told us he tried to be the Godfather that we would want him to be. I do believe he tried very hard to be a wonderful father figure for our son to look up to, and I am very thankful. I know James was happy to see him, but I was so upset. Our son now was alone. As James and Sirius embraced old times, I went alone to watch the scene. Moony restrained our son from running after Sirius. When he finally broke away I watched him run after Sirius's murderer, threatening her. For the first time, I felt what Cedric had felt. I wanted him to die at her hands so he could be with me. Later I was disgusted with myself for such a selfish thought, but at the time I couldn't help it. I wanted to embrace my son. Hug him, cry to him, yell at him, kiss him, look into his eyes; all the things I have been denied for so long.
But for now, all I can do is watch my son grow up even more. He is turning sixteen soon. He is becoming a man and I will watch him leave his childhood and continue to grow. I will watch him become the most powerful wizard ever in existence. I will watch him marry a woman who loves him with all her heart. Him and his wife will have beautiful children and watch them as I have watched my own child, but they won't have to watch from a distance. The two of them will be wonderful parents. They will love their children endlessly, teaching them everything they know. They will be the parents James and I never had the chance to be. He will be the father James wanted to be so bad. He has to be ... we need him to be. I never want to see my son hurt again.
And as for us ... we will still be here, drowning in tears and sorrow until the day the Dark side is finished. All of us long for that day when we will finally see those golden gates and fluffy white clouds. We know we are close to moving on from what the new arrivals have been saying. Yet at the moment I am stuck in this alternate reality ... still waiting. We are all waiting. We are all waiting for the Dark Lord to be defeated.
My son will be the one to save us. He will be our hero.
And when the day comes when I won't have to simply watch from a distance ... when his time on Earth is finished... I will be ready to embrace him. Harry James Potter, I am waiting for you on the other side.