Goodbye
Norma Jean
Though I never knew you at all
You
had the grace to hold yourself
While those around you crawled
They crawled out of the woodwork
And they whispered into your brain
They set you on the treadmill
And they made you change your name
They buried you today. Penelope Weasley, the Minister's wife - -the symbol of an era. You would have loved to have been at your funeral, to see the thousands of mourners crying over the loss of their "Queen". That's what you were to them, the Eva Peron of the magical world; the girl who, like the Phoenix, rose from the ashes of her poor, Jewish, Muggle upbringing and became the lady of them all. The style…the glamour…you were an actress, and you lived your life playing the toughest role you ever played: That of what the people wanted you to be.
I remember the first time I met you, the day when we first arrived at Hogwarts. I had the seat behind you on the Hogwarts Express, I sat next to Percy Weasley. I was eleven years old, and the only thing on my mind was Quidditch and trying to fit in at a Secondary school. Being a small boy with no manners, I found myself rather amused by your long, chocolate-coloured curls and thus did not think twice about reaching out and pulling one of those curls just to see if it would spring. You turned around and glared at me in shock…but then your shock turned to an amused smile and you then threw a pumpkin pasty at me. It was rather ironic that after that incident we became friends…best friends, to be exact. Any time there was a problem on my mind, be it Quidditch related or not, I could always come and talk to you and you would listen…you were the only one who knew me, Penny, and I realise now that you were telling me the truth when you said that I was the only one who knew you.
As we grew older our interests became different; I became the typical highschool jock and you became the star Prefect over-achiever of our year. But still, our bond remained as tight as ever…it was not long before I found that my feelings for you had reached far beyond friendship and had grown into love…but you were with Percy, the Head Boy, the future Minister of Magic. Still, you said that you loved me…but you were meant to be with Percy. Yes, you always had stars in your eyes - -stars that blinded you. You told me about your ambitions…to which I said, "But if you follow them, then I could lose you, and I could not handle that. I want to be your one and only…the only one to love you."
To which you responded," But why would I want only one person to love me when I could have thousands?"
And it seems to me you lived your life
Like a candle in the wind
Never knowing who to cling to
When the rain set in
And I would have liked to have known you
But I was just a kid
Your candle burned out long before
Your legend ever did
So I let you go - -I let you go and marry Percy, I even attended the wedding. But when you took those vows I did not see you becoming his wife, but taking my Penny Clearwater, the sweet little brown-eyed Jewish Ravenclaw that I knew and loved, and morphing her into Penelope Weasley, the soon to be symbol of Magical England. In a sense, it was more like attending a funeral rather than a wedding - -suicide by matrimonial vows…you were not even married under a canopy.
Shortly after Percy was elected Minister,( which I sometimes doubt he could have done without you, his "Jackie Kennedy"), I went to visit you in your London flat. You stood there in front of the mirror, running a perfectly manicured nail over your diamond necklace.
"A present from the Queen." You said," She said that every icon must have a set of diamonds."
I put my hand on your shoulder and you turned away but did not brush it off. I did not know what to say - -you had spoken about the diamonds in a voice that I did not know…the voice of Penelope Weasley, but then when you turned and lowered your eyelids at me, I knew that my little Penny was still there trapped inside that façade…it made me ant to reach out and hold you, but I couldn't because Penny was dead. Well, dead to everyone else, that is, but never to me.
I remember one time when we were sixteen you turned to me and said, "Ollie, let's get married." I should have agreed - -if I had only known that by just laughing it off I was in a way letting you die. You were the only one who called me Ollie, everyone else called me :Oliver" - -that is how I knew that I was someone different to you- - that I was the only one who knew you.
Loneliness was tough
The toughest role you ever played
Hollywood created a superstar
And pain was the price you paid
Even when you died
Oh the press still hounded you
All the papers had to say
Was that Marilyn was found in the nude
So, you got what you wanted - - a life in the limelight - -but for what price? Here you are now, being buried at age thirty-six. Why? Drug over-dose.
That was what killed you, taking those bloody pills to keep yourself thin after you gave birth to your children, all in order to remain the apple of the public's eye. It should not have ended like this. You should be sitting in a small cottage with a husband by your side and being happy with who you are - - not six feet under ground in an ivory casket. In the end it was Penelope Weasley who killed my Penny Clearwater. Not drugs, not life - -just fame. Penelope Weasley will go down in history as a legend…but Penny Clearwater will be the only one who I, Oliver Wood, ever loved.
Goodbye Norma Jean
From the young man
in the 22nd row
Who
sees you as something as more than sexual
More than just our
Marilyn Monroe
