Author's Note: I wrote this a while ago, so I apologise for any errors or inconsistencies that may appear in it. If you do notice anything that you think needs changing please let me know! I'm totally open to constructive criticism (though please keep the flaming to a minimum), or just random thoughts/comments. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling, nor will I ever be. Anything you recognise belongs to her.
At funerals, people walk by and say that they're sorry, that if you ever want to talk their doors are open, that their hearts go out to you. But the majority of the people who say these things didn't really know the deceased. They don't hear her laughter every time the dog does some strange thing. They don't see her smile whenever they look at the old weeping willow surrounded by daisies. And for this reason, I want to tell them all to stuff it when they say that they're sorry. It's for this reason that I didn't even want to have a big funeral, but I had no right to tell her parents that she wouldn't have wanted all these strange people gathering to mourn someone they didn't know. At least her parents respected my wishes in that she was cremated. I don't think I could have survived knowing that she was to forever lay in the dark, cold soil, slowly rotting away into nothing. I probably would have gone and dug her back up in the middle of the night and then burnt her in a bonfire if that had happened. No, Angelina was too full of light and warmth to be covered in darkness for eternity. It's fitting that she be consumed by those same two elements. And this way, if ever our society becomes an ancient civilization and future archaeologists dig up graveyards, her bones will never end up on display in a glass case in a museum. That thought horrifies me. Instead, I'm going to spread her ashes over the places we went and the places she always wanted to go, such as Fiji, Hawaii, Australia, Greece, and other foreign, exotic places. When I told her parents that I planned to take this extended trip and say my private goodbye to Angelina in this unique fashion they weren't too happy – they wanted her to have a proper, traditional burial in a mahogany coffin in the family plot. But Angelina was never one for tradition – she was a female Quidditch player! – and she absolutely abhorred doing things the "proper" way. If she had done what her parents wanted she'd have married a pure-blood lawyer and settled into life as a trophy wife whose only worries were what the servants were making for dinner and whether her ass looked big in the newest designer gown. Needless to say, my Angelina didn't even come close to fulfilling her parents' expectations; she was a Chaser for the English National Quidditch Team, dated man who ran a jokes shop, and had no patience for women who cared only about money, clothes, and the next social event. She hadn't even thought about having children, and if she had she probably would have named them exciting names like Roxanne and Jaden instead of safe ones like Elizabeth and Roger. Needless to say, we spent quite a bit more time with my family than with hers, and that suited everyone involved perfectly. Unfortunately, now she can't spend time with any of us, and we're all devastated, though her family doesn't look nearly as crushed as mine.
Now, as the wizened old wizard finishes his speech about "a life meaningfully lived," I have to stand up and try to sum up Angie in a ten minute speech when I couldn't fit everything into an hour if I tried. "She loved dancing in the pouring rain and splashing in puddles. She would pull me out the door the moment it started to rain, and together we'd run through the park, searching for the biggest puddle to jump in." As I spoke, memories came swirling back to me of times when I'd been in the middle of doing something, and suddenly she'd be beside me, her wide grin shoving everything else out of my mind. "'Come on, George,' she would say, 'It's raining.'" I paused, trying not to let the tears that were forming in my eyes fall. I had to keep going, to show these people that whatever they thought of Angelina wasn't right, that she wasn't just another girl. I had to let them know that the moment she died, the world became a little darker. "In the summer, we'd go outside and just lay in the sun, talking about what we'd do, making out pictures in the clouds, and talking about Quidditch. She'd help me make up new ideas for joke products. And when the sun began to set we'd go sit among the daisies under the weeping willow and watch as the sky burned. That was her favourite time of day. I once asked her why, and her reply was, 'Because it reminds us that there is always hope in darkness. That darkness comes with beauty, and even during night there is still hope, for the stars shine through; specks of light in what would otherwise be oblivion.' Angelina always surprised me with things like that, small facets of her personality that would reveal themselves at the oddest moments." I smiled softly, remembering how we could talk for hours and never run out of things to say. "She was the definition of a Gryffindor: loyal, fiercely protective of those she loved, brave, not someone whose bad side you wanted to be on. Right after the Final Battle she was helping to bring in bodies and she noticed a small child standing in the middle of the battlefield, crying for it's mother. She searched the whole night for that little boy's mother, and when they did find the woman she was almost dead, laying in the midst of three dead Death Eaters. Angie brought that woman back to the castle and nursed her back to health herself, refusing to rest until it was certain that the woman would live." I sighed, taking a moment to wipe my eyes which – despite all my work – were beginning to overflow. "Angie loved the sun, the beach, and everything tropical. Whenever we could both get off work we'd apparate to somewhere exotic and spend a few days there doing everything and anything, exploring every nook and cranny. She made me want to be a better person, someone worthy of her love." I choked then, but forced myself to continue; I had to finish. "My father once said that stars are people who were so loved when they were alive that they couldn't disappear completely. I didn't use to believe him, but ever since the day my wife died there's been a new star in the sky over our home. How can I fault her for wanting to bring more light to the world when darkness covers it, even if in doing so she has to leave me?" Angelina's death has made the day a bit darker, and the night a little brighter.
A/N: Every review is appreciated and responded to (unless you specify that it's not necessary/unwanted). Thanks for reading!