A Tribute to My Dumbledore
It seems like all too fitting a time for this to occur; just after the release of Half-Blood Prince, with Dumbledore’s death and message on our minds, one of my own, personal Dumbledores has passed away. It wasn’t a complete surprise; my former teacher and mentor had been battling ALS for a few years now, and slowly loosing everyday functions such as the use of his legs and arms. Once diagnosed with ALS, most people are given no more than 5 years to live. It is a sad and sealed fate.
My Dumbledore didn’t give me a final lesson on how to die or a story of his life the last time I saw him. It was this past Friday, and the visit was on a whim, not planned at all. Over the years I have grown close with the family through my close friendship with my Dumbledore’s neice, and the trip to see him just the day before he died felt like any other visit. He spoke with not a wavering voice or a pained face, though I can image how uncomfortable life in a chair had become for him. He seemed just like the man I had known when I was a frightened ten-year old girl, entering middle school for the first time. He spoke of books and music that he had enjoyed recently, and we watched a YouTube video of a robust Hawaiian man singing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” Nothing in his demeanor showed he was ready to leave his life now — and I cannot help but feel that he wasn’t.
My Dumbledore was young, and yet he showed incredible wisdom and courage. He was the only teacher I knew who never, ever gave up on a student. We had the wackiest bunch of kids go through that middle school while I was there, and he never treated anyone with any more or less respect. He valued the ideas and creative endeavors of each and every one of us. Only a few years ago, he was hiking and skiing and swimming with us. This Friday, I saw his withered hands, almost like the blackened hand of Albus Dumbledore, a quiet warning of a weakening man. I remembered those days back at school when he seemed to be able to feel a student struggling, her shoulders hunched and tense because she couldn’ t solve a math problem or find the right word for a poem, and he would put his hands on her shoulders like a sturdy, silent cheerleader.
It is sad that you never know when your visit with someone will be your last. I am glad I had that last visit with my Dumbledore, even if I never imagined his health to decline so quickly. It felt like a Magical Act of Kindness…not from me to him, but from the world to me, that I got to see him that last time. After I was informed of his passing, I crawled into my bed, feeling numb. I couldn’t believe it. After my visit on Friday, many people had inquired to me about his health, and I told them, “He seems so cheerful, considering his situation.” I cannot help but hope that the cheerfulness I seemed to experience was due to his inner peace with his situation. A stack of his self-published poetry book sat on the kitchen counter, a proud accomplishment of his final months. The news is still fresh to me and I still have trouble fully realizing what his death means.
As we move into a new phase of What Would Dumbledore Do? with the HPA, I feel energized knowing that my Dumbledore looked smiling into the face of the end, if only for the comfort of his loved ones. He had a well-organized mind. And, “After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.”
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