His Wife, His Widow by Bingblot

Rating: PG13
Genres: Drama, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 31/07/2004
Last Updated: 31/07/2004
Status: Completed

The love of a lifetime, memories from a lifetime of love, and going on when your life has been
changed forever... One-shot.




1. His Wife, His Widow
----------------------

His Wife, His Widow

*Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter-related belong to JK Rowling. The song is “Remember Me”
from the Troy soundtrack, sung by Josh Groban, and also doesn’t belong to me.*

*Author’s Note: For Gil, aka Romulus Lupin- returning in a very small way what you did for me
in your brilliant “Dream Chasing”, and happy birthday, again. *glomps**

~~~~

The world knew her as His Widow.

There was, of course, only one person who could be the “He” in question and no one questioned
that fact.

She called herself his wife when she called herself any title at all. And for her, it was the
finest, most precious title in the world. His wife. Mother of his children. There could be no
greater title.

The woman walked swiftly through the damp grass in the cemetery, going to a separate area,
surrounded and sheltered by trees making it something of its own private graveyard.

They had chosen it together, deciding that the measure of privacy was needed. They had also
chosen four of the five stones in the clearing, each marking a different person but only one of
those four having a body beneath.

She glanced at the names on the grave markers but did not pause.

*James Potter.*

*Lily Potter.*

*Sirius Black.*

*Remus Lupin.*

The fifth stone was the newest one and the simplest one.

She stopped in front of the fifth and last stone.

*Harry James Potter*

*Beloved Husband, Father, and Friend.*

At the very bottom, in small letters, were carved five more words which she had chosen as the
sum of his life, what she knew he would want remembered: *Friendship and Bravery and
Love.*

She stayed at the grave for a while, silently talking to him, before finally bending to kiss the
cold marble. *Goodbye for now, darling.*

~*~

Remember, I will still be here,
As long as you hold me, in your memory

Remember, when your dreams have ended,
Time can be transcended,
Just remember me

~*~

She went to his grave every year, on his birthday, on their anniversary, then on the day he had
left her forever. Sometimes she went on her birthday and with the children when they came to
visit.

And she lived. Her life was still full and busy, with work, the children and their children, and
going to the charities and events that commemorated him.

And every year on the day he left her, she reread his last letter.

It had been enclosed with his will, along with other letters to each of the children. It was
dated two years before his death, soon after the first rumors of an escalation in Dark activity had
been confirmed as true.

*Dear Hermione,*

*If you’re reading this letter, then what I always feared the most has happened and I’ve had
to leave you and Emily and Andy and Sabrina.*

*I’m sorry that our time together was much shorter than what we planned, that I will not be
around to watch our grandchildren go to Hogwarts, finish school or marry. But I’m not sorry that I
didn’t have the strength to let you go, to live a safer life with someone who wouldn’t have to
leave you so much sooner than I wanted to. I can’t be sorry for a single minute of the past 38
years; they’ve been the happiest years of my life and you gave me the three most precious things in
the world.*

*I’ve heard that letters like this one usually tell a person not to lose themselves in their
grief, to go on living and not waste away. But, Hermione, I won’t say anything like that to you.
Not because I want you to waste away, love, but because I know I don’t have to say it. You will
live and live well because you’re the strongest and the best person I’ve ever known. Have I ever
told you that, darling? You make me stronger than I am, a better person than I am. I’m not afraid
for you after I’m gone. I do want to tell you to be happy. And Hermione, love, if you find another
person to make you happy, that’s fine. I want you to be happy. When I’m watching you from the
beyond, I want to see you happy. As happy as you’ve always made me, from the moment we met on the
Hogwarts Express 49 years ago.*

*I could say so much more, but I know I don’t have to. You’ll understand what I’m thinking.
You always do, don’t you? My beautiful, brilliant wife.*

*Now all there is to say is, I love you, Hermione. I’ve always loved you and I will love you,
forever, no matter what happens, whether you ever have to read this letter or not.*

*I love you.*

*Harry*

She remembered the last time she saw him.

*It gave her an odd feeling of déjà vu, the moment of goodbye. It seemed so much like that day
so many years ago when she had said goodbye to him as he left to fight Voldemort for the last time…
There was the same dread, the same fear, the same look in his eyes, flat and hard as the emeralds
they were so like in color and with the blank expression that she saw so rarely.*

*Then she had been unable to tell him she loved him because he had cut her off. But she had
known, at least, that he knew. She had seen it in his eyes, the way they had softened when their
eyes met.*

*This day was different. And yet similar.*

*He kissed her, long and lingeringly, and she clung to him, wishing for just one moment that
she could tell him not to go, could abandon the rest of the world to keep him safe. But the moment
was fleeting and she pulled back, meeting his eyes. “Be careful, Harry.”*

*“I will.” He paused, before adding quietly, “I love you.”*

*“I know. I love you too.”*

*The words were commonplace enough but the feeling was not. Now there were the years of
marriage, of love, of passion, behind them. The memories… That were both comfort and curse at this
moment.*

She had felt it when it happened, gone cold all over, goosebumps forming on her arms, and she
could have sworn she heard Harry’s voice gasp, “Hermione.” The papers she’d been looking over had
dropped from her suddenly nerveless fingers. One word repeated itself over and over in a mantra of
denial in her thoughts. *No, no, no, no, no...* But she hadn’t allowed herself to think the
words. Some tiny part of her had clung to the hope that she had imagined it or that it didn’t mean
what she feared… Until she received the special owl from the Ministry and that little part of her
that had still hoped had died. Died at the confirmation that, after all, the evil Harry had spent
his life fighting had achieved one victory, at least, and he was gone, although he had taken the
leader and the greatest threat the Wizarding world had ever faced with him.

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, her Harry, her husband and her love, had died, saving the world
he had already saved so many times before.

Harry Potter, dead, at 62 years. The state funeral had been the largest ever held; dwarfing even
the world-wide outpouring of grief at Dumbledore’s death. The Wizarding world of Britain had gone
into public mourning for a month, the halls in the Ministry of Magic draped with black.

~*~

*I am the one star that keeps burning, so brightly,
It is the last light, to fade into the rising sun

I'm with you,
Whenever you tell,
My story,
For I am all I've done* ~*~

People sometimes told her now that she’d been so strong to survive, to go on living. So strong
not to shed tears in public, even when she’d spoken his eulogy at the funeral… She never bothered
to correct them. She didn’t feel strong, not in those dream-like first days. She’d felt as if she
too had died and she was only going through the motions. She comforted Emily, Andy and Sabrina as
much as she could, tried to explain to their children that they would never see Grandpa Harry again
but that he loved them and would always love them.

The blessed numbness ended abruptly one afternoon over a week after her life had been forever
changed.

She had just been sitting and thinking in the lengthening shadows of late afternoon. She’d been
looking at one of her favorite pictures of Harry. It was unusual because he wasn’t looking at the
camera; he was looking down at baby Emily who had fallen asleep on his chest as he relaxed in an
easy chair, one small fist clutching his collar. One arm was supporting Emily so she couldn’t fall
off. With his free hand, his fingers caressed the silky brown hair and the smooth baby skin of her
cheek. The expression on his face was one of naked emotion, love and some awe that this tiny
creature in his arms was his child, that he and Hermione had created such a perfect being.

The rebellion started deep inside her, anger, frustration and something approaching bitterness
bubbling up, until it had exploded from her, shouted words irrationally addressed to the one who
had left her.

“Damn you, Harry! Why didn’t you fight harder, try harder to survive? You had so bloody much to
live for! If not for my sake, then for the children and their kids! How can you do this to them?
How could you just leave like that? They’re so young still; they don’t understand about dying. How
could you do this to them, to me? Why didn’t you fight harder, damn it, Harry!! How can you just
leave us, leave me…”

As quickly as it had started, the anger had drained out of her, taking her energy with it. She
crumpled to the floor, the tears that hadn’t come before pouring out of her now in sobs that ripped
from her throat like living things. She cried for him, for the years they would never have now. For
Emily, Andy and Sabrina, who were devastated from the loss of the father they’d adored even as
they’d known for years that Harry was always in some danger. For their children, for Emily’s
eldest, Gil, who would be going off to Hogwarts this year, for Sabrina’s youngest, Lila, who had
just turned 2 and would never remember her grandfather. She cried for the memories that were all
tinged with poignancy. But most of all, she cried for herself, for the love she’d lost, the
husband, lover and best friend she’d lost. She cried at the knowledge that there would be no Harry
to comfort her, to strengthen her when she needed it, to tease her out of her worries.

She cried until there were no more tears left in her body, only exhaustion and a weary dread of
the days to follow, now that the numbness that had gotten her through the past few days was
gone…

~*~

It had been five years now. Five years of living with and for the memories.

People had begun to tell her that she was still young, implying although no one ever said it
outright, that remarrying was possible.

Re-marrying… No. She couldn’t. It wasn’t only that she was still in love with Harry as she
remembered him and no one else could ever hope to compete. It was that the very idea seemed wrong.
She was Harry’s wife. Her husband was dead. No one else could ever claim that title.

She lived with her memories. The memories were enough, until the day when she would finally join
him beyond the veil.

Oh, the memories, memories of a life spent together, memories of loving moments, happy times and
not-so-happy times…

*There was a rustle and a murmur of whispers that passed through the audience as they turned
to look at her, walking up the aisle with her father on one side and Ron Weasley, her best friend,
on the other.*

*Harry, waiting at the altar, turned and saw her, his Hermione, his bride. His eyes widened
and he sucked in his breath sharply. And the rest of the world faded away. He had never seen
anything so beautiful in his entire life, never imagined anything so beautiful…*

*He felt a sudden rush of adrenaline as sheer happiness pumped through his veins, filling him
with warmth.*

The one lingering memory everyone in the audience, the nearest and dearest of Harry and
Hermione’s friends, took away with them was not of the ceremony itself, poignant as it was. Nor was
it of the moment when the presiding wizard finally pronounced them man and wife, making official
what was already true, that they belonged to each other. It wasn’t of the way Harry’s voice cracked
slightly when he said his vows or of the utter confidence and trust and love in Hermione’s gaze
when she said hers. It was of the look in Harry’s eyes as he watched her walk up the aisle toward
him, the way their eyes had met and held. It was of the heartfelt happiness and awe in his gaze, so
sincere it bordered on reverence. The look in his eyes that said that some part of him couldn’t
believe how lucky he was to be marrying this woman.

~*~

*Remember, I will still be here,
As long as you hold me, in your memory,
Remember me

I am that one voice, in the cold wind,
That whispers,
And if you listen, you'll hear me call across the sky* ~*~

The world remembered Harry as a hero, the baby boy who’d first defeated Lord Voldemort, the
teenage boy who’d finally defeated Voldemort, the man who’d fought and finally died to save the
Wizarding world from yet another threat. They praised his memory and his legacy for his courage,
his sacrifices.

She remembered a different Harry, the one that only she and a very few other people knew…

*The Ministry’s ball in honor of the new Minister for Magic, Mr. Weasley, had been the first
public event she’d had to go to alone, when they’d been married three years. Harry had been called
away on an investigation and he’d been gone for more than a week, the longest time they’d been
apart since being married. What made it worse was that Harry was, for security reasons, not allowed
to communicate with anyone for non-business reasons while on his missions. So it had been more than
a week of solitude and worrying about Harry. The longest eleven days of her life.*

*She would have missed the ball if she could but she couldn’t not go to this event. Not when
Mr. Weasley was the guest of honor and not for an event such as this where, as Harry’s almost
equally famous wife, she had to be there to represent Harry, even if there had been no more
personal considerations. But for Mr. Weasley who had practically been a surrogate uncle to both her
and Harry, this long-overdue, well-deserved promotion to be Minister required her presence.*

*And so she’d gone, smiling somewhat fixedly at everyone who came to talk to her, to ask about
Harry. (And for once she thanked the fates that Harry wasn’t allowed to tell her where he went on
his missions; it made answering the inquiries about his whereabouts and his return much easier. She
could simply say that she didn’t know.)*

*She’d been talking to Ron and Luna when Ron had suddenly put a hand on her arm as the room
had gone silent. She had known what she was going to see before she turned around, known it even
before Ron’s automatic reaction, known from the way her heart lifted, as if a missing piece of it
had been replaced.*

*Harry was there, standing in the doorway. He had stopped off at their house, she could*
*see, had changed into black dress robes. But she could practically see the fatigue coming off
him in waves, guessed at the shadows under his eyes even if she couldn’t see them.*

*She was moving toward him without conscious thought, only peripherally aware that people were
clearing a path for her. Their eyes met and a smile began in his eyes and spread to his
face.*

*They met halfway across the ballroom and they didn’t speak. Harry just drew her into his arms
and kissed her the way she’d been wanting him to for the past week and half. And she forgot that
they were standing in the middle of a crowded ballroom, forgot that they were giving the Wizarding
population of London a show. Forgot everything except that Harry was back and all was right in her
world.*

*They ended the kiss to smile into each other’s eyes.*

*“Hi,” she said softly.*

*“Hi,” he whispered back, his eyes beginning to sparkle with amusement.*

*And as if their ending the kiss had been a cue, the ballroom began talking again, people once
again flooding toward them to greet Harry, some with teasing banter about the length of their kiss.
Harry grinned and shrugged off the teasing, keeping one arm around her waist.*

*Arthur Weasley came up, along with Molly and followed closely by Ron.*

*Harry clapped a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “I see I got back just in time to congratulate
you, Arthur. Or should I say, Mr. Minister.”*

*Mr. Weasley smiled a little uncomfortably. “Oh, please no, Harry. Arthur will do just
fine.”*

*Harry grinned, turning to Mrs. Weasley who was beaming.*

*“Oh, Harry, it’s so good to have you back. I’m so glad you made it.”*

Ron grinned and put a hand on Harry’s shoulder in greeting. “Hey, Harry. Quite a show you put on
back there,” he winked at Hermione.

*Harry shrugged, his eyes teasing. “Wait until you’ve been away from your wife for more than a
week and see how you feel.”*

*He squeezed her hand, bringing it up to his mouth for a kiss. Oh it was so good to have her
Harry back…*

~*~

*As long as,
I still can reach out, and touch you,
Then I will never die

Remember, I'll never leave you,
If you will only,
Remember me

Remember me...* ~*~

She remembered the Harry who had been so nervous about becoming a father…

They had been married six years before they’d felt ready to have a baby.

*She’d gone to see a mediwitch without telling Harry of it just in case her suspicion was
wrong.*

*She waited until that night when he was moving around their bedroom getting ready for
bed.*

*It was one of her secret pleasures, watching Harry prepare for bed. His little habits and
mannerisms only she knew. The part of his life that was completely hers and no one else’s, his fame
and the near-constant media intrusions notwithstanding.*

*“Harry, I went to see the mediwitch today.”*

*He stopped and stared at her, a worried frown gathering on his forehead. “What’s wrong? Are
you okay?” His voice was sharper than usual from fear.*

*“I’m fine,” she reassured him, smiling at him. “We’re going to have a baby, Harry. I’m
pregnant.”*

*Harry dropped the socks he’d been holding, sitting down heavily on the bed. “A baby,” he
repeated. “Oh dear Merlin.”*

*She brushed his hair away from his forehead with a gentle hand. “I know it’s a little sooner
than you were hoping for but believe me, everything’s going to be fine.”*

*Tentatively he moved one hand to rest on her belly. “A baby,” he whispered. He looked at her,
a self-deprecating little smile on his face, showing a vulnerability he never showed anyone else.
“I don’t know if I can do this.”*

*Hermione squeezed his hand. “You are going to be a wonderful father, I know you are. Believe
me, darling. I* know *you will be.”*

*He smiled. “If you say so.” He sobered. “If I am, it’ll be because of you.”*

*He leaned forward, kissing her as he blindly dropped his glasses on the nightstand, his hands
moving over her in a familiar yet endlessly exciting caress…*

And Harry had been such a wonderful father, loving, fun, generous. He had looked so awed when he
had first held Emily, a feeling that had not gone away for Andy and Sabrina later, a look of pure
emotion as he fell in love at first sight for the only times in his life,father-love an immediate,
instinctive reaction.

Harry, who still, even after years of marriage, somehow kept the inner core of vulnerability
instilled in him in the first miserable years of his life with the Dursleys, that made something
like surprise and reassurance flash in his eyes whenever she told him she loved him…

Harry whose sense of duty she both loved and hated… Loved it for making him the kind of person
he was but hated how it sometimes conflicted with his personal life and desires…

*Hermione was nibbling at a piece of plain toast while Harry readjusted the pillows supporting
her back when they heard what was just about the last voice they wanted to hear.*

*“Harry. Hello, Hermione, how are you feeling?” Arthur Weasley’s head was floating in the
fireplace. His tone was serious, belying the automatic greeting for her.*

*“Whatever it is, Arthur, the answer is no,” Harry said, not pausing in trying to make
Hermione more comfortable and pointedly skipping any greeting.*

*But then they all knew the reason for Arthur’s Floo-calling them at this hour of the morning
on a Tuesday.*

*Arthur sighed and passed a hand over his face in a gesture of weariness. “Harry, you know I
wouldn’t ask if I had any other choice.”*

*Harry sighed in his turn, his hands resting on Hermione’s shoulders as she settled back onto
the pillows with a grimace of discomfort. “What is it this time?”*

*“It’s Eleanor Billington from the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad. She’s missing.”*

*Harry noticeably stiffened at these words and Hermione knew he was thinking the same thing
she was. Bertha Jorkins…*

*“She went on vacation to Eastern Europe and was last seen in Budapest but there’s been no
word from her in a week. She was due back from vacation three days ago.”*

*“Budapest,” Harry repeated flatly.*

*“Yes,” Arthur frowned before saying, “I know I don’t need to remind you of the unexplained
Muggle killings not 30 miles outside Budapest, Harry. I’ve sent two Aurors over but I can’t send
any more or someone’s going to notice and start asking why. We need you,” Arthur finished simply.
He didn’t say that the secrecy was so necessary because otherwise it would start a general panic,
bringing the Wizarding world to a halt, something they needed to avoid until they knew for certain
what was going on.*

*Arthur turned to Hermione for the first time since his greeting. “I’ve already told Molly and
Ginny to come stay with you, to take care of Emily and Andy while Harry’s gone. I’m sorry,
Hermione.”*

*He addressed Harry again, only saying, “See you at Number Twelve in three hours,” before he
left.*

*Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place… It technically belonged to Harry although he hated the place
and never set foot in it unless he had to. But its location and its safety measures made it a
perfect place for Harry to work out of when he couldn’t go to the Ministry for secrecy reasons.
Arthur briefed him on situations there before every mission he was sent on and this one was no
different.*

*For a moment, Harry didn’t move. Then he sat down heavily beside Hermione.*

*“Do you have to go?” Hermione finally asked even though they both knew he did.*

*“Damn it,” was Harry’s eloquent response.*

*He glowered silently at the fireplace before facing Hermione, bringing his hands up to frame
her face. “I will be back before the baby comes. I don’t care if I have to give whoever’s
responsible for this more time to hide, I’ll come back for the birth.”*

*Hermione felt tears well up against her will and blinked them back angrily. She hated how
weepy she got during her pregnancies. “Harry, you know you can’t promise that.”*

*She paused, mentally steeling herself. She wasn’t going to make this harder on him; she
wasn’t some weepy, helpless damsel in distress. She was Hermione Potter, Harry’s wife. And she
could be, would be, strong because he needed her to be. She met his eyes steadily. “Go, Harry, do
what you need to do; I’ll be fine here with Molly and Ginny to help out.” She managed a smile,
tried to joke, “I’ll tell the baby not to come until after you get back.”*

*He smiled slightly although she could see his palpable reluctance to leave her in his eyes.
He pressed a firm kiss on her forehead, before pulling back to meet her eyes. “I love you,” he said
simply.*

*She smiled a genuine smile at him. “I know.”*

Ginny had told her the way that Harry had rushed past them as if he didn’t even see the people
crowded around the door, which, as he’d later confirmed, he hadn’t really. And she remembered
always the look on his face when he entered the room and seen her holding Sabrina. The look of
love, of awe, and of regret, regret that he hadn’t been able to be there for the birth, regret that
his duties, his very identity as Harry Potter, had kept him away.

She had smiled and only said simply, “Harry, meet your daughter, Sabrina,” and watched him
almost collapse into the chair beside the bed, his fascinated gaze riveted on his baby daughter’s
face.

And she’d decided she’d never loved him more than at that moment, even as she added, her voice
pleasant, belying her words, “I could kill you right now, you know.”

He had finally looked up, smiling slightly as he met her eyes. “I love you too, and thank you
for my daughter,” he’d said softly.

She’d smiled then, knowing she couldn’t even pretend an annoyance she didn’t feel. “You’re
welcome,” she had answered, just before he had kissed her…

~*~

*Remember, I will still be here,
As long as you hold me,
In your memory* ~*~

Harry slid into bed beside her, putting his arm around her shoulders as she rested her head on
his chest, in their habitual position as they talked before going to sleep. It was her favorite
time of day, when they shared their thoughts and feelings, talked about what had happened that day,
talked about the children. Or when they were simply silent, enjoying the brief window of time in
their busy days where they were just themselves, Harry and Hermione, where they could relax apart
from the stresses of their lives.

*Today Hermione was thoughtful, silent for a while.*

*“Marissa told me she thinks Gary’s cheating on her,” she finally began. Marissa was one of
her colleagues at St. Mungo’s and she and her husband, Gary, had become friends over the years. It
helped that their children were about the same age as Emily and Andy and so the kids had been
playmates, as well as class-mates when they went off to Hogwarts.*

*“Why does she think that?”*

*“Oh, he’s become really secretive and evasive lately about where he goes when he’s not home.
He comes home late from work and when she asks where he’s been, he avoids the question or gives her
excuses. And she found out from one of his co-workers that instead of working late, he’s been
leaving on time or even a little early for the past two weeks. Plus, she says he’s become really
distant with her.”*

*“Mmm,” Harry made a noncommittal sound. “Poor Marissa.”*

*“Yeah,” Hermione agreed. “I didn’t know what to say to her, really. They’ve been married for
nearly 20 years. And then she asked me whether I’d ever worried about you.”*

*“And what did you say?” Harry asked, curiosity and a hint of amusement creeping into his
voice.*

*Hermione shifted to look at Harry’s face. “I told her the truth,” she said simply. “That I’d
never doubted you for a minute.”*

*Harry tightened his arm slightly, brushing a kiss on her hair, but didn’t say
anything.*

*Hermione paused and then sighed a little. “It just got me thinking about how lucky we are. So
many couples grow apart or just lose interest, especially after their kids all leave for school…
But not us, even after 23 years.”*

*“No, not us. We really are so lucky.”*

*Harry paused and then continued, his voice completely sober. “I love you more now than I did
23 years ago, more than I loved you yesterday even. I don’t think there’ll ever be a day when I
wake up and don’t love you more than I did when I went to sleep.”*

*Hermione turned her head to kiss Harry’s shoulder. “I know. I love you too.”*

*“And really,” Harry began after a pause, a teasing note creeping into his voice, “who needs a
mistress when he has a wife who makes him hotter than anyone else ever could?”*

*Hermione couldn’t answer as Harry shifted to kiss her lingeringly, only smiled against his
lips, as his hands made quick work of her clothes…*

*Hermione’s last thought before she gave in to the passion Harry never failed to arouse was
that she really was the luckiest woman in the world…*

She missed him the most at night. Nights when she had to prepare for bed alone in the same room
they’d shared for so many years. Nights when she had to get into their bed, always conscious of the
empty space beside her. Nights when she dreamed of him sometimes, dreamed that he was still there
with her…

Only to wake up alone.

He came to her in her dream, walking toward her until she could see him, looking as he had the
last time she saw him, graying hair and some lines in his face, his eyes as bright and clear as
ever.

*She ran to him, throwing herself into his arms, feeling them close around her, and she was
home, in Harry’s arms again.*

*She felt tears welling up in spite of herself. “Oh Harry, I miss you so much.”*

*He wiped her tears away with a gentle hand. “I know, sweetheart, I miss you too. But you
know, I’m always with you, and I always will be… You are a part of me, just as I am a part of you.
No more tears, then, Hermione.”*

*She managed a smile for him, which he returned, the smile of love that he reserved especially
for her in their private moments.*

*He kissed her gently, before drawing back to look into her eyes. “I’ll always be with
you.”*

*She nodded. “I know.”*

*“I’ll be seeing you…” And with one last look, one last kiss, he was gone…*

And for the first time, she found she could smile after a dream about him. He was always with
her…

She remembered something she’d read once, *Our dead are never truly dead until we forget
them.*

She looked over at their engagement picture on the nightstand, his arms were around her and they
were laughing into each other’s eyes, looking completely oblivious to the photographer.

Her eyes moved on to rest on the last family picture they’d taken on her last birthday before
Harry had left. She and Harry were sitting surrounded by Emily, her husband and her children, Andy,
his wife and his children, and Sabrina, with her husband and children, carrying her youngest baby
in her arms. They were all smiling, even as Emily’s eldest son winked and pulled a teasing face for
Andy’s son’s benefit who grinned at his favorite cousin.

She smiled at the children’s antics in the picture, feeling her grief subside, to be replaced
with peace.

Harry wasn’t truly gone, after all, not while he lived on in their children and
grandchildren.

She looked around at the room where she’d spent some of her happiest times and for a moment, she
could almost swear she felt his presence in the room with her. She smiled and spoke aloud, “Wait
for me, Harry, and I’ll go to you someday. Someday but not yet, not now. I’m going to live, live
for Emily, Andy and Sabrina and their kids, so they’ll remember you. I will live and I will be
happy, knowing you’re always with me. I love you.” And somehow she knew that he heard her and that
he smiled his understanding and his approval…

Life went on… And love did not, could not, die…

~*~*

Remember,
When your dreams have ended,
Time can be transcended,
I live forever,
Remember me

Remember me,
Remember... me...*



