The only thing that got me through life was my children. I'd gone through it for my children. For Ginny, Ron, George, Fred, Percy, Charlie, and Bill. The hardships – Voldemort coming back, Arthur getting hurt, Sirius dying, Dumbledore dying – I only kept strong for my children. In time, it became a sort of chant in my head. Keep going for Ginny, Ron, George, Fred, Percy, Charlie and Bill, keep going for Ginny, Ron, George, Fred, Percy, Charlie and Bill, ,keep going for Ginny, Ron, George, Fred, Percy, Charlie and Bill..
And now the middle of that chant is gone. Ginny, Ron, George, Percy, Charlie and Bill is all that's left, and it doesn't make sense any more. There's a big hole in the middle of it, and not the kind of hole that can get stitched together easily, not like the holes in the dozens of Quidditch robes and cloaks and pants and shirts I've mended over the years. It's a big hole, a gaping huge hole that's still bleeding, and it broke the chant apart. Fred was gone. It didn't matter anymore..
None of it mattered anymore.
I, Molly Weasley, am alone.
And yet - isn't it so ironic? Every morning out of habit I wake up and remind myself that I have to keep going. Every morning I remind myself: Keep going for Ginny, Ron, George, Fred..
Every morning I go back to sleep. I always promise, at night, that the next day I'll get out of bed. But when morning comes, and my mind begins to chant, I always go back to sleep.
There'll always be that hole. And I think it's a hole I'll never be able to mend.