Letters To Fred

Arthur

Dear Fred.

Molly told me to write this letter to you. I don't know how it will help but she says I find it hard to talk about you and that writing it down instead could help. I only hope it will. I don't think so, but it's the only thing left to try. The only thing left that might ease the pain.

Oh, Fred. I regret everything so much. I wasn't there for you and George. We never spent enough time together and when we did I would usually end up shouting at you. I regret it more than anything, I would go to the ends of the earth to tell you I love you and take you to the Quidditch World Cup again. Give anything for some time to... show you how a muggle plug works while you show me your mischief plans and your favourite practical jokes.

I miss you. I can't really describe it but having twins is special. You take them for granted because there's two of them and you never see them apart, can't even tell them apart! And then one day they are split forever. Then you have to accept that one half is all you have left and that you never appreciated the two children you had. Not as individuals and now you have a dead child and a broken one.

It doesn't feel like a family with you gone and I don't think it ever will. Not at Christmas, even if you still get a jumper, not on your birthday and not at any other time. There's a piece missing, a piece that won't be and can't be replaced. Like a muggle jigsaw; once one part is gone the whole thing is ruined. Except this time it's with our hearts.

I'm going to stop writing now because, after all, you're not there are you? I'm speaking to the page. And that's all I'll ever get to speak to; a page, your twin who has fallen apart, and a cold, shallow grave.

You know, as always, your mother is right. I do find it hard to talk about you. But it's because I love you so much.

Lots of love,

Your father

P.S, I never told you this when I had the chance but I'm proud of you, son. More proud than you'll ever know.