Dear Sirius Black,
What are words when I want to describe what you’ve meant to me?
You made me so angry when I first read about you. You made me feel like even the greatest of friends would ultimately always let you down. And then suddenly, I changed.
I read about the real you. I read about your loyalty. I read about your love. I couldn’t believe I had ever been angry at you. I couldn’t believe how biased I was to you.
With every page, I wanted to know you more.
I wanted to understand you.
I wanted to understand your anger.
I wanted to understand your friendship.
I wanted to understand your family.
I wanted to understand what made you different from your family.
I spent so much time with you and yet it was so little.
When you died, I refused to believe it. I read it over and over again. I had to make sure that it was real, didn’t I?
How could I accept that after everything you had done for everyone but yourself, life would play this cruel joke on you?
I somehow still accepted it.
I turned every page looking for a sign of you. Looking for anything that would remind me of how important you have always been.
It took me a while but I realised that I didn’t even need a sign.
I always knew how important you were.
I always knew how kind you were.
I always knew how brave you were.
And I always knew how faithful you were.
You were named after a constellation and now matter how many decades go by without you, it is clear that every look at the stars – it reminds me of you.
You taught me that even when life throws you face first on the ground, you can rise up.
You taught me that family can be chosen.
You taught me that fierce friendship will always prevail over anything else.
And you taught me that no matter where you are, your wise words are always there at the back of my mind.