99 Days Without You

Days 77 and 78

Day Seventy-Seven:

I ran into Anne today. I don’t know what she was doing in London, and I didn’t ask, but when she saw me she instantly fell into my arms, sobbing her poor little heart out into my chest.

“It hurts more each time I see it.” She whispered into my ear, and pulled away before I could reply. I stood dumbfounded on the street in a sea of people, staring with my mouth agape at the disappearing figure of your mother. I just assumed she was talking about your grave.

Day Seventy-Eight:

I didn’t visit your grave yesterday because I was just too scared. I just now realized that I hadn’t visited you once since the funeral, and the guilt is eating away at me now more than ever. I feel terrible. I feel completely, utterly terrible. I’ve been so selfish. I’ve always been so selfish. I’ve always thought about myself instead of you. So now here I am, sitting before your grave with tears running down my face. The flowers are fresh, and there are dozens of them Haz. People love you. I brought a single rose; I sure hope it’s enough. I didn’t want to crowd the place, but seeing all of these different flowers makes mine look pathetic. I gave it to you anyways. I set it right in front. I plan on staying here a while, so I have a couple blankets with me and a bottle of wine. Red. That’s always been your favorite. Right Harry?

Day Seventy-Eight:

I woke up still sitting before your grave today, only to realize that I had gotten myself drunk last night, and passed out in the grass. You must be ashamed of me.