It happened in her sleep. It was some sort of fluid in her lungs that suffocated her. That's what they had said, anyway, the doctors that is. Old bones creaked and groaned as he leaned against his cane, still staring at the freshly moved earth. His oldest had stayed with him as everyone else left, even if he wanted to be alone. He wanted to stand where he was forever until he fell into the newly covered hole and joined her in the Lifestream. He wasn't ready to go back to an empty house. It wasn't even his home anymore without her there. Eventually, he gave in to the beckoning hands tugging at his arm.
The car ride was quiet to him, even if his two were talking to one another. They were trying to hide how much the missed her. They did just as much as him, but it was different for him. He always believed that he'd go before her. A part of him new that she would be able to tread on without him always by her side. She was just that type of woman. He wasn't that type of man though.
There was always admiration for her. Even in the time he felt incapable of showing it, even when he was confused by the presence of another woman and long lost friend, it was still here. Finally, when they had decided to lay down together it really was something they wanted to last forever. His stomach churned at the though of it, that first night. The apartment was there for themselves that night. There was nothing between them but thin layers of clothing. Since then, his life felt like it was in an internal bliss, and he felt like the luckiest man alive.
Now, though, he just felt empty, and he couldn't remember being this empty in nearly sixty-five years. It felt like his soul was dying, and the recollection of the morning he found clouded his memory again. It had been like any other night as it had been since the beginning. There was no warning or indication. There was just the caring routine of lips against foreheads and temples and finger brushing fingers from faces before they had both fallen in a slumber. And when morning came he woke up and he couldn't wake her.
He had to bring a hand to his face to cover the water staring to tear up in his eyes. He wasn't a man that cried often, especially when he was sad. Death was something he couldn't handle very well, and he hoped he was done with it years ago.
His two insisted on staying the night with him. He didn't object to it, and he insisted on not sleeping in their room. He hadn't since he found her there. How could he? The cane was set beside the couch as he muscles and bones ached from the motion of sitting down. Tired, aged eyes glanced around the room and placed on an old chair. A memory of her sitting there, the youngest on her lap, the oldest on floor, looking up at her attentively, and their older two almost siblings standing around her. It was the oldest that she was telling the story too, above love birds. How if one died the mate wouldn't be able to stand being alone and would eventually follow the other to the life stream. His eyes closed, head tilted back, and his hand clutched the arm of the couch. "I won't be far behind," he whispered to the empty of the room.
