Some say that rain is a sign of peace when a loved one passes on, but on this day it simply steeped the sadness that comes with an untimely death. The dark clouds loomed above like a spiritual ceiling and occasional claps of thunder jostled the mourning family. Because it was late summer, many people were on vacation. Many close friends and even a fair amount of the family were not there.
Richard was beside himself. His wife of 13 years, his best friend, was gone in an instant. Emily was a wonderful, caring person and made friends everywhere she went. People loved her fresh, carefree style and her sense of humor was outstanding. She was one of those people you wish you could clone and seed the world. But his beloved flower was not meant to live to a ripe age. Fate had other plans for her, quick and painless plans on a lonely stretch of road.
Emily was an attorney but did a tremendous amount of charity work all over the world. She was involved in numerous organizations, both in a legal capacity and as a simple laborer. She gave freely of her time and money, and Richard often helped her. They never had children, so they did what they could to help those that did. Family-oriented charities topped their list of favorable causes.
Late one evening after a charity dinner, Emily was on her way home alone. She was driving through a remote area outside Cheyenne when the accident happened. Apparently an animal jumped in front of her car based on the skid marks. She swerved two times and a portion of the steering system in the car failed, sending her into a stand of trees. Despite the fact that she was wearing a seat belt and the air bag deployed, the sudden shock of impact was too much for her body and her neck was broken, the neck that bridged a truly beautiful mind and a pure heart.
As the evening wore on the visitors departed, shaking Richard's hand, repeating the condolences, holding back genuine tears of the horrible loss he sustained. She was irreplaceable and we all knew it. He could spend a thousand years on this planet and never find her equal, his friend, his true companion. It was devastating to watch, and anyone that knew them knew that he'd probably spend the remainder of his days alone. Maybe it was that thought that added to the tragedy. The only thing for which we could manage thanks was that it was almost guaranteed that she died within a few seconds.
I had flown in the night before and decided to stay in a nearby hotel because 3 or 4 out of town guests were already staying at Richard's house. But I had checked out and had my things in the car outside, ready to take them over tonight. A few people remained behind tonight but I decided to take a week off and help him with the unpleasantries of dealing with the many details that must be attended. I told him that I would manage all of the phone calls, forms, and other things that would require a considerable amount of time. He uneasily agreed but knew full well it was best for someone else to work through it.
After the last guests left the funeral home, I followed Richard back to his house and put my things away in one of the spare bedrooms. I came downstairs and Richard was on the covered porch, a glass of wine and a half-filled bottle in front of him. The rain continued to fall, a random pattern of high pitched tinkling sounds as it found the metal on the roof above us. I sat down next to him and said nothing for the next 45 minutes.
Aunt Trudy broke the silence by quietly walking over to Richard and kissing him on the cheek. She wrapped her arms gently around him and began to softly sob. Not long afterwards we were together in an embrace, barely audibly mourning the loss of our lover, our niece, our friend. A part of me died that moment; I realize now that is when I finally accepted her death. That moment on the porch, that moment when the three of us were together, I finally felt the final sting and knew she wasn't coming back. Her spirit's finger touched our lips and quieted the hope that any of us would ever see her again.
By the day of the funeral I think I was almost out of tears. Richard was in a daze as were so many others as we laid her to rest. Friends and family bid their farewells and then the true loneliness began. I knew that this time with Rich was going to have to be used not only to tend to family legal matters, but to gage for myself how well he was doing and how well he was going to do. I knew my twin brother better than anyone, and many of his secrets were our secrets, his thoughts and feelings mixed with mine. It was true what they say about twins having a private communication channel that no one else knew, no one else could ever understand. We were not only twins but very close friends and it had always been that way.
Mom and Dad, long since gone, were the only living souls that could tell us one from another. We had maintained nearly identical body builds through the years because we had had similar interests in fitness activities. Both of us were avid rock climbers and bikers, so we had stayed in shape and had worked the same muscles to do so, which nearly perfected the similarity.
Even at this later stage in life, at 34, we were totally alike. People had consoled me at the funeral and I graciously accepted their condolences, not wanting to clumsily tell them they were talking to the wrong person. And so it went with Rich and me as it had nearly always been, one for the other, supportive, and loving, one person with two halves, from our embryonic mitosis to this very day. I continually wished I could sap half of his pain and meld with him to lessen his burden. And it went without saying that we both knew what I thinking and feeling. Rich could feel my empathy from across the room or across the state.
By late afternoon all of the family and friends had departed. We were alone in the house with each other and ourselves, with our memories and the pangs of hurt and pain that swelled and ebbed with the passing minutes and hours. I poured each of us a glass of wine and we went out on the porch. Again we sat in silence for a while, this time trying to process what we were going to do the next days that I was going to be around.
"I like this red. It's a good red, not too expensive", Rich said. "Emily was the wine connoisseur; I just went along for the ride. She picked 'em and I drank 'em." For the first time in three days a wry smile cracked on his lips and almost instantly his eyes welled with tears.
"What the fuck and I going to do without her, Ed?" he said through a growing sob. "I just don't know what I am going to do with the rest of my life, Ed. I don't know if I can get through this. I just don't know if I can." He held his head in his hands and cried out loud. I knew my own experience being counseled, that sometimes just releasing the pain is the best thing a person can do to begin to heal. Rich began to let go, to really fall apart, but it was normal, it was expected, and in an unfortunate way it was necessary. My best action at this time, I reasoned, was none; just be. Just be there, just be around.
And so I did.
I went to bed before Rich to make sure I was awake before he was. I whipped up some breakfast and put it out on the table hoping the smell would wake him up before too long. I waited a few minutes and called for him a few times, but no answer. As I walked upstairs towards his bedroom the door was wide open and from the angle in the hall I could see the bed, and a thin sheet covering Rich. He was still asleep and I wanted him to get his rest, so I put the food into the oven to keep it warm and read the paper until he awoke.
About 15 minutes later Rich came down the steps. "Hey bro", he said as he came into the kitchen. "Why'd you let me sleep so long? You're usually the one I'm waking up."
