I look at the stars that are just an arm's reach away, and I rail against the gods, any god. How can life be so unfair, so cruel! For one moment in time I had it all: the magical midwife had just laid the most beautiful baby boy in my arms as James, the most wonderful man in all the world, knelt by my side. I felt whole, complete, happy, and I knew the meaning of the word peace.
But it was only a moment!! So fragile. So lost.
It was gone like mist before the sun.
Now I reside in a prison that dares call itself "heaven". Trapped in paradise, I am reduced to merely watching as my child grows up without me; I could not cheer him on when he took his first steps or hold him when he cried. What kind of mother am I?
I no longer have a body; I should not be able to feel. Yet I can still feel the warmth of Harry's tiny body against mine. I can feel the pain in my heart, ripped apart just as I was ripped away from my son, my precious child. They say time heals all wounds, but this anguish is just as terrible, having never faded. Some days it is a roaring anger, but most often it is worse: it becomes a gnawing ache, an emptiness, an abyss within my soul.
I do the only thing I can do: watch.
Watch.
And watch.
I am held powerless to do anything else. I watched as Petunia neglected my beautiful little boy. I watched as my brother-in-law insulted and degraded Harry. But I also saw him rise above all that. Despite it all, my Harry has become a noble, brave, and honest young man.
I had held my breath when Harry met Draco. My heart was in my throat (figuratively speaking) as Harry faced the Chamber of Secrets. I rejoiced as Harry met his godfather and Lupin, having the courage to save Sirius's life and the wisdom to have listened despite the hatred. I am proud of my son. I just wish I could tell him that.
Often when I get too sad, James will remind me of all the things I was able to give my child. Birth truly is a miracle; to think that I actually created that small, wrinkled being. Amazing! I gave him my green eyes too. I gave him all the love I could in that all too short amount of time. And in the end, I gave my life that he could live. I've never regretted that, not even for a moment.
Perhaps the gods aren't that cruel. Perhaps there is a god out there watching out for Harry just as I am. I hope so, because that boy follows trouble. He's worse than his father!
I'm proud of you, Harry. Even if you can't hear me.
I love you.