RP: Life Goes On
Date: Sunday, May 19, 1999
Characters: Andromeda Tonks
Location: Cottage
Status: Private
Summary: Andromeda thinks about things
Completion: Complete
It felt like a Sunday. Andy hadn't known what to expect today, but that certainly wasn't it. She'd barely slept last night, too restless and too aware of the date and memories of the past. When she'd finally got out of bed and finished her shower, she was struck by how it felt like a normal Sunday. The sky was cloudy and it was raining at times. The Sunday edition of the Daily Prophet had been delivered by owl, and she could hear Teddy snoring lightly from his bed.
Even when she looked at the front page of the Daily Prophet and read the headline 'One Year Later', she didn't feel much different than normal. It was funny, in a way, to think how easier one year later sounded when compared to 365 days. One year without her daughter didn't sound nearly as bad as 365 days without her. It was the same thing, of course, but she was struck by the comparison because it did feel different. Tomorrow would be 366 days without Dora, but she knew that she wouldn't count that way. Remembering didn't necessarily mean obsessing, after all.
Surreal might be a good word, she decided as she sat with a mug of coffee and the newspaper open before her. She wasn't disconnected or in denial, yet she didn't feel at all the way she had expected. When she had got through the day that Ted had died, there had been tears, and she'd wrapped herself in memories. Today, she didn't feel like crying. Not yet, at least. Did it make her cold to not cry?
Dora wouldn't have wanted tears, though. Neither would Remus. They weren't people who mourned those lost so much as they celebrated life. They hadn't wanted a solemn service upon their deaths, and they hadn't wanted formal words that meant nothing to them. She would like to think that she wasn't crying because of a stubborn need to do what would make her daughter happy, but she didn't think that even she had that much control over herself.
Maybe last night had helped. Roger's visit had distracted her, but they'd also talked, and she had felt better when he left even with her mind all over the place. That hadn't stopped her from thinking about the past as she was lying in bed, though. She had remembered Dora as a baby and as a child and as a mischievous teenager and as a beautiful young woman who was taken from this world before her time. And she had thought about Remus, about the boy that her cousin had introduced as 'my other best friend' during a picnic so many years ago and about the man who had stolen her daughter's heart even when she had opposed their relationship.
She missed Dora. Every time she looked at Teddy, she thought about his parents and vowed once again to give him everything that she could so that he'd have a happy life even if he'd never be able to know them. Whenever she heard a certain song or saw a certain color, she thought about her daughter and missed her so much that it hurt sometimes. She didn't need a particular date on the calendar to remind her that Dora was gone. She knew that every morning and every evening, after all.
It had been a year ago today. That wasn't nearly as significant as she had thought it would be. She glanced up when she heard Teddy waking. After she stood, she closed the newspaper and left it to read later. For now, she'd change Teddy and get him dressed then she'd feed him. They'd take a walk later and stop by the market before returning home to play with his blocks or possibly complete one of the puzzles that he found fascinating. It might have been a year without Dora, but, really, it was just a Sunday.
Characters: Andromeda Tonks
Location: Cottage
Status: Private
Summary: Andromeda thinks about things
Completion: Complete
It felt like a Sunday. Andy hadn't known what to expect today, but that certainly wasn't it. She'd barely slept last night, too restless and too aware of the date and memories of the past. When she'd finally got out of bed and finished her shower, she was struck by how it felt like a normal Sunday. The sky was cloudy and it was raining at times. The Sunday edition of the Daily Prophet had been delivered by owl, and she could hear Teddy snoring lightly from his bed.
Even when she looked at the front page of the Daily Prophet and read the headline 'One Year Later', she didn't feel much different than normal. It was funny, in a way, to think how easier one year later sounded when compared to 365 days. One year without her daughter didn't sound nearly as bad as 365 days without her. It was the same thing, of course, but she was struck by the comparison because it did feel different. Tomorrow would be 366 days without Dora, but she knew that she wouldn't count that way. Remembering didn't necessarily mean obsessing, after all.
Surreal might be a good word, she decided as she sat with a mug of coffee and the newspaper open before her. She wasn't disconnected or in denial, yet she didn't feel at all the way she had expected. When she had got through the day that Ted had died, there had been tears, and she'd wrapped herself in memories. Today, she didn't feel like crying. Not yet, at least. Did it make her cold to not cry?
Dora wouldn't have wanted tears, though. Neither would Remus. They weren't people who mourned those lost so much as they celebrated life. They hadn't wanted a solemn service upon their deaths, and they hadn't wanted formal words that meant nothing to them. She would like to think that she wasn't crying because of a stubborn need to do what would make her daughter happy, but she didn't think that even she had that much control over herself.
Maybe last night had helped. Roger's visit had distracted her, but they'd also talked, and she had felt better when he left even with her mind all over the place. That hadn't stopped her from thinking about the past as she was lying in bed, though. She had remembered Dora as a baby and as a child and as a mischievous teenager and as a beautiful young woman who was taken from this world before her time. And she had thought about Remus, about the boy that her cousin had introduced as 'my other best friend' during a picnic so many years ago and about the man who had stolen her daughter's heart even when she had opposed their relationship.
She missed Dora. Every time she looked at Teddy, she thought about his parents and vowed once again to give him everything that she could so that he'd have a happy life even if he'd never be able to know them. Whenever she heard a certain song or saw a certain color, she thought about her daughter and missed her so much that it hurt sometimes. She didn't need a particular date on the calendar to remind her that Dora was gone. She knew that every morning and every evening, after all.
It had been a year ago today. That wasn't nearly as significant as she had thought it would be. She glanced up when she heard Teddy waking. After she stood, she closed the newspaper and left it to read later. For now, she'd change Teddy and get him dressed then she'd feed him. They'd take a walk later and stop by the market before returning home to play with his blocks or possibly complete one of the puzzles that he found fascinating. It might have been a year without Dora, but, really, it was just a Sunday.