From his place in heaven, Remus watched. He tended to spend large portions of his time doing that, as did most of the other occupants of the afterlife. It was not something that they spoke of to each other, simply something that everyone did, inside their own minds, as they looked upon the living, pitying them, but wishing to be amongst them once more.
There were several people Remus found himself watching. Kingsley, for one. He watched as the man, who had taken over the closest thing to a best friend role once Sirius died in Remus' life, continued one without him, and became Minister of Magic, at first a temporary position until the aftershocks of the War faded out, and then a permanent position, as the citizens realized that no one could lead quite like Kingsley. Remus always found himself smiling when he watched Kingsley, for his life seemed to be going well.
During his funeral, Kingsley had remained impassive, and Remus worried that the dark-skinned man would not be accepting of the death, that he would let it take over him. First Dumbledore, a man the pair often admired together, and now Remus. It hadn't seemed right.
Kingsley, however, made a point out of making everyone see that the deaths that occurred during the war, while not justified in any way, were worth the ultimate sacrifice, as without them, the war might have still been going on.
Remus also found himself watching Harry Potter, as he knew his fellow Marauders did as well. Harry was well looked after by those in the afterlife, as most of the people there had died for him and his cause. Harry, much like Kingsley, had carried on in his life, though it took a bit more convincing. Harry went on to become a successful Auror, eventually taking on the Head position, all the while maintaining a happy and healthy marriage to one Ginny Weasley, the ever-so-popular sports journalist for the Daily Prophet. He and Ginny had three marvelous children, James, Albus and Lilly, who grew up to be just as brilliant as their namesakes.
At Remus' funeral, he watched with pained eyes as Harry cried and sobbed until his throat was raw, attempted to claw his way to Remus' coffin, no doubt with the intention of digging the coffin out in a twisted way to bring him back, and as he screamed to the sky, mourned for the loss of a man who did not deserve the fate he was given.
Harry did, however, take on his role as godfather to Remus' only son, the newborn boy who's hair changed colors like his mother, and who, thankfully, did not experience any symptoms of lycanthropy throughout his lifetime. Harry's role in Teddy's life was ever-present, never shifting, and Remus prided himself in watching their interactions, so loving and understanding it made Remus cry every time.
The last person Remus watched was the one it pained him to see most: his son. His beautiful son, who had come out kicking and screaming, with a marvelous head of turquoise hair. Remus watched his son as he grew up, first oblivious to the fact that he was fatherless, after all, he had Harry, and Harry was, if nothing else, his father. Remus watched as his son grew up to understand that he lived in a world his parents did not, that they died before he could speak his first word, which ended up being "dada", me though it was directed towards Harry, the notion made Remus sob convulsively all the same.
At Remus' funeral, Teddy was only four months old, and he did not know what was going on. He was blowing spit bubbles in his grandmother's face and keeping a steady, vice-like grip on his godfather's then-girlfriend. Teddy cried whilst watching Harry fall apart, though being as young as he was, he did not know why anything was happening. He only knew that his "dada" was upset, and the notion made him wail and cry.
And when Teddy married Victoire Weasley, and gave the world two children of his own, Remus watched. And when the anniversary of the War arrived, Remus watched as, without fail, every year, Teddy visited Tonks' and his own graves, which were mercifully placed side by side. And when Teddy spent hours of his time hunched over the headstones, his eyes bloodshot and raw, the bags under his eyes becoming more prominent as the night wore on, Remus watched in remorse.
And when Teddy finally couldn't make it to their graves, because he had one himself just a few feet away, Remus watched as his son, old and brittle, hair constantly white, and face always wrinkled, limped up to his still-young father with the largest smile Remus had ever seen on his son's face.
"My son," Remus had said. "My sweet, sweet son."