Dumbledore is Dead...Again

 

Reading aloud is one of our favorite family pastimes, my husband is the main reader, but during seasons where he has worked nights, I have taken on the mantle of “reader.” Our children have grown up with some of our favorite characters from our own youth and new characters that we discovered together. The Harry Potter series falls into the latter category. Chris and I fell into the series at about book 3 or 4, and we just knew these would be great read alouds for our daughters, our son was just a babe so he wouldn’t remember it and we knew we’d have the pleasure of doing it all over again when he was older…he’s older.

Personally, I get really attached to characters in books that I enjoy. I enjoyed the Harry Potter series. And I fell apart at all the appropriate times, was grieved over the darkening of the days and mourned with the characters as important (and unimportant) people were lost forever on the pages. Hell’s bells! What a ride.

Now, The Boy (our affectionate name for our man child), is experiencing the series for his first time. It’s so wonderful to hear it all again, to remember this charming fictional world, with all it’s dangers and wonders, coming to life again. To recall in my mind the characters as I had imagined them (before I saw the movies) and to fall into the story, what a gift is good literature!

At the same time, I can recall us doing this ten years ago when our daughters were little, so the nostalgia is overwhelming. I recall them drawing and working on their crafts as they listened, now they are usually too busy with homework to sit in on every reading but they will make a point of joining us for certain passages because they too remember what is was like to hear it for the first time and they want to relive that moment with their little brother.

Tonight, Dumbledore died…again. I thought I could handle it, honestly, I thought that I could take it in stride, knowing it was coming, and be unaffected by the sorrow. Nope. Wrong again! Just as I am undone each time John Carter is taken from Barsoom, just as I am broken when Juliet takes Romeo’s dagger to her chest, or when Frodo leaves the Shire forever…I am struck by the torrent of emotion again and again brought on by the same events, relived on the pages.

So tonight, I go to bed with a heavy heart, and so does The Boy.

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