(no subject)
As...shattered as I feel about this whole thing, it's...strange.
I didn't know that she would die but I did at the same time. It was probably three weeks ago. I looked into her eyes and tehre was something which told me Mum had accepted it herself and that I should accept it too. I think I did all my crying then. I think from then on she thought it was only a matter of time. And from then on she talked to me about so many things because although nobody else knew, she knew herself.
Little things. About her Mum and my Great-Gran, about me as a little girl. I started to open up to her too, tell her things about the wizarding world, about all that's happened. Before I used to keep things seperate, for myself and for them because there were things they couldn't understand even though they really, really tried. I opened up to her about everything. She started pushing me to make a start in life and pursue studies or a good job. Something, anything. "My talented little girl," she'd always say.
I feel like a little piece of me will never be the same and that's the way it should be. And even though I cry every day, it's not hit me as much as it would have. Sometimes I wonder if that's a terrible thing but what I shared with her in that little piece of time tells me it's not.
It's been bad on Dad. He's really heartbroken about all this and who could blame him? Aunt Marigold has come around to stay and I'm so thankful for that. Anytime he looks at me, you can see that he's reminded of Mum and it tears him into bits. I don't think I could cope with it alone.