I'm faded, I'm broken inside -- Late Summer 2016

It had been eight years since I had lost the ability to walk without any sort of assistance.  Aunt Lily told me that I should not even be able to stand with the help of the crutches and braces on my legs.  I pushed myself to the limit and I was getting somewhere... but I was in constant pain -- obviously I did nothing about that.  I was frustrated that I could do nothing more than stand or even sort of walk for five minutes at a time.  I knew Addison did not care -- she loved me no matter what I could or could not do.  The kids loved me because their dad was still alive.  Stan could barely remember me before this happened... Dona could vaguely remember for a few years.  No one changed the way they thought of me except for me.  I was just a shadow of the man I was before.  I could not help anyone... I was stuck at a desk fielding calls in the Aurors offices and handing out assignments that I used to receive.  I was so tired of all of this.  There were just things that magic could not fix no matter how badly we wanted it to.  I stared at the wall, lost in my own self loathing until a voice interrupted my thoughts.  I did not hear what he said, but I looked over and saw my son.  "I'm sorry, Stan... what'd you say?" I questioned.

I was thirteen and have been blind for quite some time, but I did not need to have my eyesight to see how my dad was having more and more of a difficult time with everything.  "You're brooding again," I repeated, leaning against the door frame.  I had a habit of just keeping my face pointed more towards the ground due to not being able to look at people anyways, so why have it up wher it would startle people with my vacant eyes?  "Don't push yourself this hard, Dad.  I'd like you to be around for awhile..."  I knew the men in our family had a tendency to not take advice from anyone, but I wanted to at least try to help him.

I smiled and shook my head, though Stan could not see me.  "Don't worry about me, Stan," I told him, sighing a little bit.  "I'm just sitting here not doing a thing... just like any other day."  I would push myself.  I would push myself until I broke because I had nothing else left to lose -- when it came to my physical capabilities, that is.  Obviously I had a lot to lose when looking beyond that.  I was just so tired of not being able to do what needed to be done.  I was glad that Constantine could not see me now; I was fighting back tears that I wished would stop coming.  "If I don't work towards bettering myself, Stan, you'd lose me anyways..."  I said to him quietly.  I would obviously still be there, but I would not be myself... I could feel the parts of me that made me, me fading away more and more every day.  Some days were worse than others.

I could not believe what my dad was saying to me right now.  Was it really that bad?  I sighed and made my way to the couch, sitting down once I felt the couch behind my knees so I could sit down.  I did that so I would not miss the couch and fall flat on my butt -- which has happened when I just assumed that the chair or couch was in the same spot.  Mum tried not to move the furniture around too much without telling me, but sometimes she moved something to clean and forgot to tell me or forgot to move it back.  "Dad... what's wrong?" I questioned.  "You sound as if you're... well, it sounds bad."  I knew I was young and he probably would not confide in me as I was his son and he did nto want to worry me.  But still... I wanted to know what was going on.

I patted my son on his knee.  "Stan, there's nothing to worry about wtih your dad, okay?" I said to him, sighing.  "I will be fine.  It's just a bad day is all.  Why don't you go have some fun before you have to go back to school?"  I wanted to continue to push myself, but I was not going to do that with Constantine here.  I did not want him to be here if Ifailed and got frustrated with myself.

I definitely did not believe him.  Perhaps I would get a hold of Aunt Lenni or Grandpa.  I knew better than to have Mum talk to him... I could hear them talk at night sometimes, she could not get through Dad's tough exterior.  He hated breaking down or talking about things like this.  He thought it would ruin the image we all had of him -- yes, I pretty much thought my dad was like a super hero or something.  But seeing him break down or something would not make me think less of him, it just meant that he was human.  A perfectly good quality to be.  I shook my head at Dad.  "I don't really have anything to do.  Maybe I'll go brush up some Potions or something... first I'm going to go grab some food, do you want me to grab you anything?" I asked, standing up and moving towards the kitchen, my fingers lightly trailing on the back of the couch so I would know where I was.  It was easy for people to forget that I was blind; I could do so much and yet so little at the same time that people overlooked that small detail.

I cold not believe that one of my children wanted to brush u pon school work before the year even began.  I shook my head at my son.  "No, I'm fine thanks," I said to him.  I was just ready to try again to getting back to trying to be able to walk.  I watched as my son left the room.  I took a deep breath and from the wheelchair, I grabbed the crutches.  I still had the braces on my legs.  I was going to do this... I could do this.  I was going to make it to the other side of the room.  I hoisted myself up and had all my weight supported on the crutches and my arms.  I was able to get my feet into position -- I was happy to see that I had some control over them than what I've had lately.  I started to put more of my weight on my legs, and I was fine.  I started to move forward.  I was doing pretty good until suddenly my legs just gave out beneath me, and I was unable to catch myself.  I fell to the ground, keeping my mouth shut so the profanities would not come flying out of my mouth.  I clenched my jaw with frustration, pain, and determination.  It was the only way to keep my emotions in check.  I grabbed the crutches again and lifted myself up.  Aunt LIly told me when my legs gave out that it was time to quit; but no risk, no gain.  I needed ot push myself outside of my comfort zone.  That was they only way things would get done.  I steadied myself and took a couple more steps before the samae thing happened.  "Son of a bitch," I muttered under my breath.  I was able to lift one of my legs into a bent position as I sat on the floor.  I leaned my elbow against it and put my forehead in the palm of my hand as I sat there, trying to regain control of my emotions.  I was so tired of all of this.

I pursed my lips when I heard my father struggling in the other room.  He forgot that I could hear quite well compared to Mum or Dona.  I knew Mum was at work, but Dona was upstairs I thought.  I wanted to go in and help him, but I refrained... until I heard him the second time.  And then I heard his tears.  I set my food down on the counter and walked towards the living room.  I stopped when I realized that my sister was there, too.  I had no idea whether or not I should go in and help him and it seemed like she had the same confusion.  She put a hand on my shoulder and I heard her walk away.  I was sure that she was leaving to go to the Greybacks or something.  She hated hearing him break down; so did I.  I walked back towards the kitchen.  I grabbed some paper and one of my Quick-notes quill -- it actually wrote what I wanted it to say not that stupid version that Skeeter used to write with.  I whispered to it so that Dad would not hear me.  

It wrote:  "Aunt Lenni... Dad's having a hard time -- again.  I don't know what to do... could you possibly come by in the next couple of days or today or something to help him somehow.  I am so lost as to how to help him.  Please let me know if you're able to help him.  Stan"

I sent it out with our familiy owl and hoped that she could help him.  I hated hearing dad break down like this...

I sat there, even failing at fighting back tears that overwhelmed me.  I finally regained control and realized that I was still on the floor.  I wanted to -- needed to -- get up, but I was not sure I had the strength.  I had to at least get up off the floor.  I grabbed my crutches and propped them against the couch that was only a couple of feet behind me.  I pulled myself up onto it and was able to swing my legs onto the cushions, grimacing at the shooting pains that went from my spine to my toes.  I laid my elbow over my face and focused on steadying my breathing.  That was how I worked through the pain.  And I really did not want the kids to have to see me as bad as I was feeling today.  I hated to say this, but I really wished that they were not home... when I got this depressed, I much rathe rpreferred being by myself.

I moved back to the living room.  "Dad?" I said questioningly.  I was not sure if he was on the floor or in his chair or on the couch.  I could barely hear his breathing.  He obviously calmed down; or at least was covering it up quite well.  "I just want you to know how much I believe in you," I said quietly, staying in the doorway with my hand on the door frame.  "I'm going to go upstairs... if you need anything just yell for me, okay?  Oh, and dad," I said before walking away completely.  "I love you."  I figured I could at least let him know that I was there for him.

I moved my arm to look at my son in the doorway.  He looked lost and confused... and it was probably my fault.  I took a deep breath to mask the pain in me forcing myself to sit up.  "Stan, wait a sec," I said to him, waiting until he came back into my line of vision.  "I'm sorry," I told him.  I was apologizing for breaking down, for making him feel horrible, for making my son look the way he did... everything.

I walked back into the room and felt along the length of the couch and could feel Dad's weight on the entire couch.  I was not going to make him move.  I sat down on the floor by where his torso was.  "You don't need to apologize, Dad," I said quietly, leaning against the couch.  "I know that it is hard... it's hard for me, I can only imagine what it's like for you."  I could barely stand the way people talked about me; they did not think that I could hear them, but I could.  The things they said made me so angry and feel so small.  But there was no way I could change what was going on with myself the same way that Dad could not change what happened ot him.

I raised my eyebrows at Stan.  I put a hand on his shoulder.  "Why don't you talk about it," I said quietly.  "What's been going on, kiddo?"  I knew that Constantine tried to be so strong and to act like nothing bothered him, but I knew better.  He was just like me... we just hid it well.

I sighed and shook my head.  "It's just hard to explain... it's just every day someone says something," I informed him.  "I'm just getting tired of having to prove myself every single day while at school to someone.  I mean, I have some great friends who are always there for me... but it's like people purposely don't move and make me trip when I don't realize they have their foot out or something."  Those people were jerks and I was getting sick and tired of it all.

I wished that I could help him so much more than I could.  "You just have to try to be the bigger person in situations like that, Stan... or you could take a leaf out of hte Black handbook and fight with them," I added, chuckling at the reaction I got from my son.  "Just don't tell anyone I said that... especially your mum."