Still Life

Still Life

"It's still life without you

And I still hold on.

What it feels like, you can't go by that

It's still life, still life without you."

~Bryan White, "Still Life"~

It was silent and peaceful as she made her way to the place she had not visited in many months. She looked straight ahead, not really seeing anything other than her destination. She reached the site and stood gazing down for a moment, saddened by the unkempt area. She was disheartened by all of the trash, dead leaves, overgrown grass and weeds that cluttered the small section she stood in front of. She supposed it was her fault for not coming out and maintaining the cleanliness. She had not been strong enough to do it, and she supposed that she still wasn't very strong, but she was a great deal more than she had been all those months ago. Encumbered by her round belly, she slowly sank to her knees and began to clean away the litter that rested on the only indication that this place was special. Nimble hands cleared away rubble and she remembered a conversation she had with her beloved.

"Honestly! You would think that the telephone is a part of your body! You never go anywhere without it and whenever I see you it's glued to your ear! You are forever using that darned thing."

"Well love," he had replied. "I grew up with none of the luxuries that you had when you were growing up. I grew up in a house with a family that truly hated me because of something that was not my fault, something I had no control over."

"Don't look at me like that," she had said. "It makes me feel guilty."

"Like what? This?" he teased her, giving her his best puppy dog eyes.

She remembered how he had continued giving her that look until she sighed and gave in. The smile that had broken out across his face reminded her of a small child getting his favorite toy after being punished for a long time. She thought about how his arms had wrapped around her and pulled her in for a kiss. Just before their lips met, she remarked, "That phone is going to be your ruin." She had no idea how close to right she had been.

The day she got the call was etched forever in her memory and even in the warmth of the sun she shivered at its vividness. He had called to let her know that he would be coming home soon and she told him that she had some great news for him. He chuckled at her excitement and told her to wait until he got home and then she could tell him. She waited for hours for him to come home, but he never came. Finally, well after dark, someone rang her doorbell. She opened the door to find an officer standing on her step. Even now, clearing away his grave, she could not remember but a few words that the officer had said. The name of her beloved and the word death was all that registered in her mind. In the days following, she learned that he had been killed by a driver who had drifted across the yellow line of the road while talking on his phone and smashed head on into her love. That was all she could really remember. His service was a black canvas to her, as were the days following. Sitting back on her heels, she surveyed the work she had done. All that was missing were the flowers and she pulled those from the bag sitting next to her. Before placing them down, her fingers traced the name etched in the stone. She placed the flowers down and read the marker aloud.

"Harry James Potter

Beloved Husband, Friend, and Father

Born: July 31^st 1980

Died: November 13^th, 2008

'One More Angel Has Earned His Wings'"

Standing, Hermione Granger-Potter closed her eyes for a moment and, with one hand on her protruding belly, walked away.