I'm finished...

with the book.

I'm so sad and depressed.

Not because the book was sad or depressing; I wouldn't tell you that even if it was.

I'm sad and depressed because I have no idea how long it will be before the next and final book is released.

It could be years.

And there is more.

There is another bit of sadness that surrounds my love of Harry Potter books that I will share with you now, my blogging friends of the internet.

Just over two years ago, when the last book was released, I went and purchased it promptly. It wasn't long after Hilary's book came out; which I was also reading.

My friends, M. and David had just had their second baby; I was their doula. They had a beautiful birth and a beautiful, big, baby boy.

Three weeks after the baby was born, M. called me crying hysterically. Something had happened to David at work; he'd had a seizure of something. She asked if I could come over. I was at her house within minutes; her sobbing hysterically. I offered to drive her to the hospital where he had been taken, but her mother adamantly refused. I was to stay there with the babies, she would drive M. to the hospital.

An hour or so later, M's mom called.

David had died.
He was 31,
in perfect health,
it was not known how or why he just died,
seemingly instantly.
They believe he had a massive heart attack, but it was never clearly determined.

I helped my friend, prepare to bury her husband.

It is not the usual custom of those from the Pacific NW to embalm and view their deceased friends and family; those of us from the East and other areas, this is a common occurrence. David was from the NE and his mother was flying in; she wanted to see him. M. agreed to have him embalmed and laid out but didn't want him there, in the funeral home on that day alone.
I agreed to sit with him.

Before I went, I asked her if she wanted anything with him; a photo, something that he favored, something special. She chose a picture of them together when they were young, a picture of their boys, his favorite bottle of wine, and the new Harry Potter book, dog-eared where he left off. The night before he died David had said to M., "It's the best one yet."

I placed those things around him, tucking the Harry Potter book, (which was also close to MY heart,) under his arm. I sat with him that day, waiting for his mother to arrive.
I fixed his hair and talked to him.
It was hard, but I am glad that I did it.

Anyway, those things I placed with him, except for the one picture, and including the Harry Potter book were cremated with him.

When I finished the last book, I thought of David, and what he would have thought of it.

When I put my hands on this one, the new one, as I bought it; I thought of David.

I think of him now, and I think he would have liked this one as much as I did.