Ante Mortis

Year 37: I remember crying a lot the days after Dad died. It came so suddenly and unexpectedly that shock itself seem to take a day to set in. It was almost as if I was reliving his days as a young graduate. A new sheepskin, a new child, a new job, and suddenly my father was gone.

His dying breaths were said in a language I barely knew. Uncle Morgan understood them, but he couldn't talk lucidly afterwards. My uncle did not cry loudly or demonstratively. Tears fell on a blank face as he held my father closely and listened to him die. I can only guess that my uncle felt helpless. The family nurse declared my father dead and Georg had to coax Uncle Morgan to let him go.

Uncle Morgan stumbled into a wall as he tried to feel his way out of the room. We should have been surprised, but everyone was focused on Dad. I think the whole situation was too weird and the death pushed it into the realm of unreal. Humans deal with death by seeking out comfort, but after several days of not seeing my uncle, I went to his rooms, hoping to offer solace and some companionate comfort. I found out while my sister, my stepmother and other siblings had been crying together and commiserating, he'd moved forward with my father's wishes on how to be buried and started executing his will. Georg and Mr. Shay, the family lawyer, said his tears never ceased during the entire seven days before the funeral. I went to his sitting room.

My uncle is a tall man with an imposing presence. It was hard to think of him as disabled when he was calm and sane. He sat in his chair, straight and proper, but his face seemed hollow and pale. Tears were still falling from his eyes. A light meal sat on the table next to him, barely touched. I waited for him to acknowledge my presence like he always had. He said nothing. He sat blindly staring, not moving.

I cleared my throat. He startled at the sound. “Uncle Morgan?” I tried to speak softly.

“Ah, Nicole...” his voice sounded hollow, too. “I am sorry.”

He aimlessly flexed his hand and I noticed the wound had become infected and was oozing. Georg said from behind me, “Leave him be. He's handling this as best he can. Don't expect him to live well after this.”

“He doesn't look like ... healthy.”

“Well, he can be shut up in this suite and forgotten now. His spirit and life are dead.”

“That's rather mean.”

“I don't want to sound mean, but he's a fey twin without his soul mate.”

I wanted to say something, but I couldn't find the words to what I was thinking. I felt I should've known what he was talking about, but didn't. Georg, in his healer's way, continued, “Let me explain. Human twins are close, and bond closely, but fey twins bond at conception. They pair off for life as emotionally linked soul mates. The bond is far stronger than any other relationship I know. Their roles are defined at birth. The firstborn is the guardian. The secondborn is the dominant. Morgan's biological imperative is to protect his brother at all costs. Normally, most likely from the stress of the role, the guardian is usually the first to be taken by death. It is unusual, and some surviving guardians say it feels unnatural, for the guardian to outlive the dominant. Very often, the guardian will die of grief and self-neglect shortly after. Morgan has to deal with an unnatural situation compounded by the lack of any hope of the 'making up' of their souls in the afterlife. He will live out his existence feeling incomplete from here on.”

I thought I was sad and depressed before I heard that...