In my quest to delve into other genres this year, this is my first foray into the I&T genre - I'm more commonly found down in the land of Loving Wives. I can relate to LW for various reasons, I&T, not so much. As a teen, I had a crush on an aunt - tall, blonde, extremely attractive but that's all it ever was. Bizarrely, my wife's sister lived in the street where I grew up, and used to watch her as a MILF walk past our house, filled with typical lustful thoughts of a teenage boy. It wasn't until later that when I started to date my now wife, I found out they were related. That's probably it as for as my own I&T experience goes.
I need to sing the praises of
29wordsforsnow
for offering to edit this one up for me. There were definitely a couple places where I became stuck, and they ironed those out nicely. Thank you. Reading thru' before hitting the publish, I've made a few very minor changes, any cock-ups will be mine! This is fictional, all characters involved in anything described sexually are over eighteen.
I like to look at emotions, the whats & whys, what makes people do what they do. I've tried to inject some of that into this piece of unfamiliar territory I've entered. So, welcome to -
In His Shoes
Dying. When you reach that age in your life to consider that dying is, in fact, a part of life itself, it makes you think how you'll end up saying goodbye to your loved ones. Too many films and other media show a fond farewell, last words of love and caring between people sat together before the peaceful departure. Reality's typically fucking cruel and harsh.
I found that out when the college principal walked into my class, spoke to the lecturer who nodded after a few words were shared, then made a subtle gesture of the hand for me to follow her. When I reached her, she spoke in a soft voice.
"James, I'm sorry, gather your stuff you need to come with me."
Once in the corridor, I asked.
"Have I done something wrong?"
We stopped and she turned to me, reaching out to hold my hand and squeeze it. The look spoke of sorrow, trying to contain her own tears told me something was wrong and it directly affected me. When we reached her office, my uncle, aunt and cousin were sitting waiting. They were ashen-faced, my aunt, crying. As I entered, they stood, my uncle started to openly cry as his arms opened to engulf me, swiftly followed by my aunt and cousin. It was my aunt that pulled the curtains of life back revealing the hard truth.
"There was an accident, James. He felt nothing, he had no idea it was going to happen. Thery said he never suffered. We are so, so sorry."
My dad... he was gone. No long chat goodbye, no reminiscing over our beautiful family's past. His last words as he left the house to me was to not forget to take the rubbish down curb side for collection. You don't ever see that in the films.
۞۞۞۞
I don't really recollect any of the journey, but we were suddenly pulling into the hospital car park. My aunt seemed to know where to go and we entered a small room with a bland modern sofa and chairs, the walls painted a nondescript colour with a single framed print of a family walking down a beach all holding hands as they appeared to be kicking sand in the surf. That picture alone portrayed to me how my family was lost as the grief was about to overwhelm me. Until I looked at my mum. She was a broken woman, I could see the deep sense of loss in her eyes, her mouth, in fact her whole face. She ran into my arms, as we embraced each other tightly, her body shaking uncontrollably as her tears spilled onto my shoulder. Lifting my head, the despair we both felt rippled away from us as an invisible negative energy force, infecting those close by as my uncle and his family stood mere yards from us, huddled and cried together. I noticed the nurse in the room turn her head slightly, silently wiping away a tear as she looked at the broken people before her. I'd seen it start to fall, as I tried to focus on something to stop me breaking down like the others. It made me wonder if she had to go through this everyday. God, I hoped she didn't. In the end, it must surely crush the spirit of even the most hardy souls.
As it all calmed down another nurse came with an orderly, and explained that someone would need to formally identify my dad, which would set wheels in motion to allow things to proceed. After that, there would be an autopsy, and we would need to make arrangements for a funeral director to be ready to collect his body when it would be released, probably in two or three days. The nurse spoke, addressing my mum and uncle.
"We need a relative to identify the body. Because of the nature of the accident, we would recommend that you, Mr. Williams, do this on behalf of the family."
My uncle Glen looked shocked, my mum put her hand to her mouth, eyes wide, shaking her head. It clearly meant that he must be a real mess. I swallowed, and spoke up.
"I'm his son, James. I'm over eighteen, I'll do this, I want to lessen the pain for my family."
My mum, uncle and aunt tried to dissuade me, but it was obvious they really didn't want to do it. In the end, I accompanied the orderly who took me to an office, then we went with a mortuary attendant into a room to see a body covered with a sheet lying on a bed-cum trolley that you'd typically see in a hospital.
"Are you sure you're OK to do this?"
I looked at him and nodded, I could feel my heart pounding, my hands shaking as I tried to take big deep calming breaths as my dad had taught me to do when you faced a challenge. Maybe it wasn't him, there was a mix up, someone had stolen the car from his works. Carefully, the sheet was partially pulled back, to reveal a part of my dad's face, neck, shoulder and arm. He had a tattoo on his arm, it was done when he was my age, of a heart with an arrow through it with their initials. Above it, was a small stork carrying a basket with the initials JW - it was added just before I was born, as their new addition was going to be either James or Juliet. For some reason, right at this moment in time, it made me smile. I was glad they gave me the name James and not Juliet.
I nodded, acknowledging that this was the body of my dad and was taken back into the office and asked to sign some paperwork. As I read through signing the documents, the attendant slipped from the room for a few minutes. When I reached the last sheet, he stopped me, and handed me an envelope with the three rings my dad wore, his watch, phone and wallet. I confirmed they were his possessions; they were noted on the final sheet and I signed to indicate I had received them. Then I was led away, and back to my family for another round of tears and hugs.
We finally left the hospital, and made our way home in a cab. My mum sat in the back with me. Other than the redness around her eyes, she had managed to create a thin veneer of things being normal, despite what her inner self felt. She held my hand tightly, I didn't know what to say, so I sat looking out of the window noting everything as we passed it but really seeing nothing at all. Then, out of the blue, I felt soft lips on my cheek, a kiss unlike any other my mum had given me. It wasn't the usual peck on the cheek that I'd get as a greeting, it was longer, I could feel the moisture residue and... I felt embarrassed as my cock twitched. Moving her head back, she spoke softly, not a whisper, but close to my ear.
"I'm so proud of you, your dad would be proud of you. Stepping up to do that, you didn't have to, me and your uncle could have done it."
I turned and smiled at her, her hand came up to cup my chin, stroking it gently. If only she knew I'd involuntarily felt my cock twitch when she kissed me. I doubt she would be proud of that. She continued speaking.
"You are so much like him, and he would have been as selfless as you were back in the hospital. I can see him in you, and it hurts, but we will adapt. Your dad would want us to adapt, find our feet and move forwards. Promise me, we'll do that together."
