Dear Parvati,

Why does time move so fast? It's been over five years since my last letter, but I could swear that it wasn't that long ago. Will's already in his fifth year, and Erin is in her third. Vena's not quite old enough yet, but she will be in three more years. What happened? How did they get so old that fast?

I'm proud of them, I really am. Will's gotten excellent marks, and Erin, well, she hasn't gotten as good as marks, but I'm still amazed at what she can do if she puts her mind to it. Veena has grown up into a typical 8 year old, curious, but no longer needing her mother's hand to explore the world.

It's actually something she did that caused me to write this letter. Yesterday I was on the couch, reading a book, Liam was cooking dinner, Will was reading one of his textbooks, and Erin was badgering him to explain a spell to her. This is a completely ordinary scene at my house. And then all of a Vena comes in holding the picture of you casting your Patronus the summer before you died. She walks in, very pleased with herself and says "I found a picture of mom"

Well of course, that got Will's and Erin's attention. And then next moment Will looks at me and says, "I didn't know you could cast a Patronus!" And I have to explain to him that I can cast a Patronus, and explain to the other two what a Patronus is. Well, that took a while, and at the end of it, Erin grabbed the picture and exclaims "You look so young there mom! It's hard to imagine that you were ever that young."

And then I broke out crying. They didn't know why of course. Even in the fifteen years that I since I had William, I was never able to bring myself to talk about you. My own children didn't know who you were. Liam knew, but that's only because he found out, not because I told him. And even after he found out, I almost never mentioned you. He never pressed me, and we just went on with our life. But my own children, children who would have been your nieces and nephews don't know about you.

For a few years after your death, I was angry at the world, because it kept going with barely a problem, even after you died. No one ever talked about you, even though it felt like they should have. It felt like no one could be bothered to think about the sacrifice you made. It felt so unfair.

Now though, I realize that I'm just as guilty as the rest of the world. I hated talking about you, because it brought up so many painful memories. I can count the number of times I really talked about who you were. Not just acknowledging you existed, but actually talking about you. You know how many times that happened?

Six.

I never talked about you, to the point that my own children didn't know. All because I felt like your memories were too painful for me. They should've known, but they didn't. Erin didn't know that she was named after the best friend I ever had.

I finally told them, but only because it was nearly forced upon me by my kids. As soon as they got Liam in there to get me to stop crying, they wanted to know what was wrong. So I told them the whole story, starting way in the first year. Some things they already knew about me, like I was in Ravenclaw like Will, or that I was in the D.A. But then I started talking about you, about how you led me to join the D.A., about how you were there to help rebel against the Carrows, and about how you fought in the battle. I told them that you were my identical twin, and about how I lost you. In a way, it was almost like losing you all over again. All the memories came back to me. The good times we had on our birthday, the summers we spent together, the time in the room of requirement, all of them, the good and the bad.

At the end of my story, Erin picked up the picture of you and stared at it for a long second before grabbing my hand like you used to do when I was upset. She looks at me and says, "And that's why you gave me my middle name?" I nodded, and then we just sat there. I had never told anyone this much about you. And now here it was, exposed at last. I sat there, examining the painful memories that I didn't want to put down. Everyone else sat there trying to digest what I had just told them.

The next day, they insisted in visiting your grave for the first time. They wanted to know more about you. And I realized that, in spite of how painful it was, I actually was glad they wanted to know. They started to learn things about you, each in their own way. Will started combing through books about the D.A and old newspapers, Erin just straight out asked me about her namesake, and Vena, well, she just listened in.

With the years that have gone by, the way that I thought about you changed. At first, it was grief that almost drowned me. Then it was sadness and regret that you weren't there. Then you were a bittersweet memory. Then you were there as someone for me to talk to, but not think about, because I had a perfect life that didn't need to be interrupted by pain.

The one thing that stayed the same over the years was the pain. At first it might have been a little stronger, but it's still there. Even after all my attempts, the pain you left me with is still there. I accepted it, lied about it, refused it, denied it, but it's still here. I think it's time that I should give up and accept that it's here to stay.

I'm not going to hide from the pain anymore. I can't, now that my children know about you. I need to be able to talk about you again. Up until this point, I refused to share my pain. I kept it in me, and it only broke out six times. It's taken me this long to realize that it's not pain to other people. They feel bad for me, but it's not pain.

I'm out of things to say, so I think it's time for me to finish this letter.

With all the love in the world,

Padma