After the wake, a few of us went back to our sister-in-lawâs house. A question tap-danced in my brain: now that my husbandâs brother was dead, was his widow still our sister-in-law or will she eventually be erased from the familial slate, ties severed, connections lost?
The room which they call âthe officeâ was a confusion of books, photo albums and memorabilia piled high like Babel.
Flipping through yellowed snapshots, we spotted her, the widow, in every image âŠ. halcyon days when we all spoke the language of youth and happiness âŠ. and my question was answered.
Bill stood at his open closet mumbling and cursing under his breath as he pulled out one pair of pants after the other. He was in a mood that has no definition or perhaps many definitions, none of them good. He was searching for something to wear for the funeral of his twin brother, Jim, who died suddenly on April 2. Had it been anyone elseâs funeral, Bill would have just pulled out a suitable pair of pants and a dress shirt, but this was his brother and he said he needed his black suit. He couldnât find it in the closet and he was getting angry but, of course, the errant suit was not the cause for his consternation. I walked to the closet and spotted the suit immediately. Handing it to Bill, I hugged him and kissed his cheek. As I ironed his shirt I could hear him crying softly. âWhyâd you have to go and die, Jim?â
Bill & Jim at their childhood home, City Island, The Bronx, NY circa 1950
My husband encouraged me to write today; I didn’t want to …. I felt like I should sit by his side, hold his hand, cry with him but his tears and his grief have not hit home yet.
One minute he’s walking around the house in a daze, the next he’s playing LEGOs with our 4 year old granddaughter. It’s good for her to be here; she’s keeping him distracted.
You see, my darling husband Bill’s twin brother Jim died today around 12:30pm. His wife Lynne went upstairs to their bedroom and found him on the floor. She tried desperately to breathe life into him but he was gone. Just like that, alive one minute and dead the next.
Losing a sibling is so hard; losing an identical twin is unfathomable. I am Bill’s wife but his twin brother was his other half and I say that with nothing but love in my heart. They shared their mother’s womb, their crib, their playpen, their bedroom, their car. They went to school together, worked in the same marina together for many summers. Bill graduated Iona College first in his class; Jim was second. They even failed the army physical together!
They were on polar opposites of the political page and their taste in women couldn’t have been more different but in every other way, they were as one. Of course they looked the same and talked the same, they had the same laugh, the same sense of humor. They loved watching hockey and going fishing together. Now that will never happen again.
If you look at the last photo on the bottom of the page you’ll see them, two little suntanned towheads sitting side by side fishing with their older brother, dad and grandfather. Now everyone in that boat is gone except for my husband, Bill.
All I’m thinking about right now is what a great time Jim and Lynne had last week. They spent the whole week in North Carolina with their son, his wife and two teenage grandchildren. They texted photos of everyone on the boardwalk, arms around each other, looking incredibly happy.
Bill and Jim. The Twins. The Richy Twins. When people saw one, they saw the other. Now there’s only one and nothing from this moment on will ever be the same.
The Elephant's Trunk 