I watched him struggle out of bed every morning; tired, sad, as he carried the invisible weight of a thousand worlds on his shoulders. He was only one man. Though he had trouble admitting his pain, it was still etched in premature wrinkles and lines of distraught turmoil.
The world saw him as a coward, crawling into the bottom of every bottle he could until the memory he carried with him like a shadow; a constant reminder. It was like a billboard strapped to his back that flashed the words in bold, red letters: FRED.
But I saw him for what he really was, a brave man.
He wasn't himself. He wasn't the George I had fallen in love with. The joke shop had temporarily gone out of business, and the smile on his face was feigned.
I caught sight of him one night stumbling out of the Hogs Head, sleet bouncing viciously off his shoulders.
I ran to him, taking his hands in mine. Slowly, I held up his head. "George," I said to him, knowing that even in his drunken state he could hear me. "George, look at me. Stay with me, George." I saw him smile faintly before his eyelids dropped, his head bobbing dangerously. I took his hand.
Slow down.
What's on your mind?
It's alright.
I'm on your side.
I hate to see your injury.
I wish you could transfer all your pain to me.
I pulled him to his feet, taking him beneath the protection of my umbrella, sleet pelting like little bullets off the black fabric. I hated seeing him like this. It took my insides and twisted them into a pitiful, sickening sailors' knot. It made my body cringe as the feeling of plummeting into ice water overtook me. I missed Fred, too, but I was able to move on. And now, the person I missed most of all was George. I missed the warmth of his tricky smile, his laughing eyes, the way they always had a mischievous twinkle in them.
I took George too an enclosed space and pressed him to me, stroking his red hair lovingly, hoping, praying to God he would sober up.
Stay here, it's okay to cry.
Let me help you make it right.
Let's turn up the radio.
Let the band remind you that you're not alone.
We all get low.
I felt his heart wrenching sobs from beneath me. I was willing to sit there and hold him in the sleet for however long he needed. He didn't want me to see him like this. I know because he repeated it over and over as I held him to me. But the truth was, I saw him the same way I always had. Nothing could change that. At last, his sobbing subsided. I chanced a glance at him, expecting to find him asleep. Instead, he was looking at me, his eyes grateful, returned to the way I remembered them. "Hey…" he mumbled. "Thanks, Angelina." I had to ignore the stench of sick that followed. I pulled him up.
"Come on," I said, hoisting him over my shoulder, "let's get you home."
"It's a long walk home…" he slurred in protest.
But I quieted him. "I know. That's why I'm doing it."
Even the brave they depend on someone
the moon only shines with the help of sun
and it's not as safe when you're walking alone
I'll walk you home.
I admitted, as I helped him to his flat, that there were times I didn't think I'd be able to manage George's drinking habit. I admitted my own denial of his problem. I didn't know how I could get through this. But as he enclosed my hand in his, I realized that was all I needed to stay strong. That feeling I felt pulsate through my whole body when I held his hand was enough of a motive to keep me going, keep me helping him. And I knew as I got him up the stairs that we would get through this.
Sun's out but it feels like rain.
So I will illuminate your day.
I'm afraid I'm losing it.
What's it gonna take for me to get through this?
We'll get through this.
George lost the key to his liquor cabinet. And somehow, don't ask me how, we managed bit by bit to piece George back together. And if ever Fred came up in conversation, he was in the company of warm memories and smiles. The joke shop was back in business and the George I fell in love with was returned to me. If ever he needed a nudge in the right direction, I simply took his face in my hands and reminded him of who and where he was: the bravest man I've ever known was safe in my arms forever.
I'll never forget the day when he realized he never was alone; I was always with him. His face was glowing, his eyes twinkling mischievously. For the first time in a long time, he laughed with his children, and replaced his overcoat of sadness and gloom with a jovial Weasley sweater.
Need the band to play the song,
Someone's hand to keep you strong,
It's harder when you're on your own,
Success is not the same alone,
Can't have up without the down,
Need the straight to have the round,
I'll provide the harmony,
Your song is best accompanied.
We had been married eighty-eight years. They had their ups and downs, but whatever happened, they were the best years of my life.
Roxanne took me by the arm and I went as quickly as I could to George's bedside. He reached out his hand to me. "Will you?" he asked softly, as I took his offered hand, "Will you walk me home?"
"It's a long walk home."
"I know, that's why I want you do it."
I kissed his cheek, tears falling onto his cold skin as his hand went limp within mine. And for the first time in eighty-eight years, he didn't need me to walk with him. I knew by the placid smile frozen on my husband's face that Fred took over for me.
I'll walk you home.