Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter

At age four, Remus thinks he knows grief. Of course, he doesn't know the word yet, but he understands the concept. He's not stupid, he knows his parents are grieving for him, grieving the son they've lost. So, he understands that the idea is you feel sadness about having lost something. Remus doesn't understand what's been lost. Only that his parents are sad, they're afraid for him now, they're afraid of him. All he knows is that they will always be sad about this, but it's nothing to the pain he feels a night a month.

At age ten, Remus thinks he's beginning to understand grief. His Grandpa just died, and his mother doesn't seem like she'll ever stop crying, stop mourning. Remus misses his Grandpa, he thinks he understands what it was like for his parents to lose him six years ago. But it's still nothing compared to the pain his condition brings him, lasting for a few days either side of the moon now.

At age thirteen, Remus thinks he knows grief. His mother is gone and all he can feel is despair. Surely this is grief. Surely things won't get worse. He'd take a million full moons if it would save her. But the pain he feels now is not the same as it is from the moon. This pain he can learn to live with, will learn to live with. Nothing will ever be worse than the times his body is not his own.

At age sixteen, Remus thinks he understands grief perfectly. He knows it's not a sadness about what you have lost, but a lack of hope of it ever coming back, and the helplessness that sets in. His best friend has betrayed him, and Remus knows things won't ever be the same. He wonders, for the first time, which is worse. The two solid weeks a month that he's in terrible pain, or the sharp sting of betrayal.

At age nineteen, Remus thinks he understands grief better than anything. Everyone is gone, and he is alone. Three of his best friends are dead and the fourth is the one that made it so. He knows grief is more than a lack of hope, more than despair, it's a bone deep knowledge of unending misery that cannot be escaped. Grief doesn't end. Lives do. The moon is just like this feeling. Both bring him constant pain.

At age thirty-five, Remus knows he won't ever understand grief. He knows that it can't be quantified. It's not helplessness, nor hopelessness. It's not despair or misery. It's not even sadness. Grief is the loss of something that should never be lost. A part of your heart. He's older now, and he knows his heart will heal over this wound, but like much of his body, it will forever hold the scar left by his dear Padfoot's death. Grief can't be understood, it simply happens. It will fade, just like a scar, but it will never leave completely. And it shouldn't. Grief is a far better option than forgetting. Remus knows grief is worse than any full moon ever could be. The pain he feels after Sirius' death is so much more than every full put together that the idea of comparing them seems a ridiculous notion.

At age thirty-eight, Remus learns the very truth about grief as he watches his wife die, mere moments before his own death.

Grief isn't pain. Grief is love.

And love is worth every minute of it.

NOTE:

My Grandpa passed away this afternoon, writing has always been a way for me to process things and it's something that means a great deal to me.

So this is a tribute to my Grandpa, Cliff, who I can only hope knew how much I love him.

Rest in peace Grandpa, you will never be forgotten xxx