Mors Immatura

December 22nd 2022. The day my life was robbed of meaning. Robbed of a beloved wife. Robbed of a cherished son. Robbed of light, and love, and happiness. Robbed by a semi with corners cut on its maintenance. Two brilliant lights extinguished for eternity by sixty thousand pounds of out of control metal and cargo.

It wasn't just me. Josh's wife, Ava, had been with me. Helping make festive preparations for a celebration that would never happen. It was Ava who had opened the door to the State Troopers. A man and woman looking so sombre that the news they relayed in hushed, overly-controlled, voices was almost superfluous. We knew. Ava and I both knew.

On a gray and cold January day, I stood with Ava on one side, my daughter, Alexis, on the other. My arms round both, tears flowing, as we said goodbye to a mother and her child; a husband and a brother. Alexis had spoken at the service. Neither Ava nor I could bear to. I threw dirt into each of the adjoining holes, scattering it over burnished cherry wood. Then, turning away, left them behind. But turning towards what? Emptiness? Loneliness? Grief?

Ava and I had insisted on closed casket. We had crystalline memories, maybe too crystalline. There was no need to bid adieu to painted mannequins; at most the shells of previously vibrant, luminous beings.

Ava? My sorrow was like two spears, driven deep into my breast. But hers? I couldn't imagine hers. A few years ago, not long before Josh had met her, she had buried her Mother. The poor woman had been cut down by the plague that shortened so many lives. Then, two months later, her Father was also in the ground. Tragically by his own hand. He couldn't face life without Ava's mother. I worried that Ava had inherited that tendency; I worried about that tendency in me as well.

Josh had been Ava's guide out of grief. Savior was a strong word. Ava was her own person, the youngest Associate Professor at her Research Institute. A rising academic star. But my son had eased her pain. Helped her to smile again, to look positively towards the future. They had married only the previous August. So had just a few brief months together. The promise of a shared life destroyed. Replaced by the potential of a lifetime of heartache and regret. Vanessa and I had shared thirty years. I didn't know if that was better or worse. There was no ISO unit of loss. No way to quantify and compare pain.

As we walked away from the remains of our loved ones, Alexis squeezed my hand, kissed my cheek, and diverted to find the arms of her husband. He was holding their baby. Little Sophia. At least Van had got to meet her, to hold her granddaughter. The trip to California had been her last. Alexis's departure left me and Ava. Alexis and Bob felt more distant than the few feet they were away from us. Maybe Ava felt it too as she slipped her hand into mine; her eyes still fixed on the ground. We walked the sixty feet or so to the waiting limos; raven black and with windows tinted to shield our tears from the world.

Seated now, Ava buried her face in my shoulder and wept disconsolately. Her sorrow spilled into anger and she beat on my chest with her fist.

"Why, Martin? Why were they taken from us?"

I had no answers. The World was a cruel place, our journey through it was essentially random, and life was fragile. All true, none suitable consolation for a twenty-nine year old widow. I let her take it out on me. Alexis leaned, put a hand on Ava's shoulder, and she collapsed into sobbing again. I put my arms round her and lied that it would all be OK. I knew nothing would be OK. Not ever.

They say that time heals all wounds. That's bullshit. Some wounds are too deep. Ava had, of course, remained at the house after the funeral. Sending her home alone to her apartment would have be cruel and unusual punishment. And she just sort of stayed.

Alexis and Bob had departed with my granddaughter. I'd promised to visit in the Summer; and to FaceTime. The next day, Ava was sitting in the kitchen, her packed bag beside her. Staring into a cup of coffee.

"I don't think I can do it, Martin."

We'd talked about what she should call me and Van before the wedding. So long as it wasn't Mr and Mrs Anderson, anything else was fine by us. She'd toyed with Mom and Dad, but I think the memory of her departed parents haunted her. We settled on Martin and Vanessa.

"What can't you do, honey?"

She dropped her head and seemed to squeeze her cup harder.

"I can't go back to the apartment. All our things, all those memories. Coming back to it after the wedding. After the honeymoon. I just can't. I think I'm going to sell it."

I moved closer to her and put a hand on her shoulder. She looked up with tears forming in her eyes.

"Can I...? Can I stay here for a bit? Until the sale goes through. Until I find somewhere else."

My heart went out to her. This woman that my son had loved so much. Who had become part of our family so quickly and naturally.

"Ava. You are family. Whatever you call me, you're my daughter. You can stay as long as you like. To be honest, I was dreading you leaving. This place? So big and just me rattling around in it. I'd welcome the company. It's not as if..."

The tears overwhelmed me. I stumbled and reached for the table blindly, feeling the world spin round me. Ava stood and steadied me. She pulled out the chair next to her and eased me down. Turning her own chair to face me, she took both my hands, and we sat. Not sharing words, but sharing loss.

What I had said was true. The house felt less empty with her around. The weight of Vanessa's absence was less severe. I guessed it was the same for her. I had always though that Josh had chosen brilliantly. Ava was obviously crazy smart, but she was funny, and compassionate, and interested in so many things. No one could take the place of my real daughter, but Alexis was far away. And, somehow, Ava became the focus of my life.

It wasn't as if either of us were miraculously healed. I often cried at night, thinking of cuddling against Van's warmth. I often woke feeling the bottom had fallen out of The World and that I was in free-fall to oblivion. Ava and I talked. She had the same anxiety, the same sorrow. It bound us closer again. Her apartment was sold, but I told her there was no need to leave until she wanted to. I was honest with her and said that I'd like her to stay. To stay for me.

Six months after the funeral, she was still sleeping in Alexis's old room. Still bringing a little light to my gloomy existence. It was not as if we lived in each other's pockets. She had gone back to work. Science was such a part of her, and she worked long hours; I normally waited up for her. I also had my job, in IT consulting. I travelled with that. Each trip, I yearned to be back home. Back with at least a sliver of my old life. Back with the person who understood and shared my grief. We took care of each other. What was wrong with having a second daughter? What was wrong with Ava having a surrogate Father?

Nothing it seemed, until she told me that there was something important she wanted to talk to me about.

It had been in the morning, as we shared a pre-work coffee. She didn't want to talk now, but asked if I was free that evening.

Of course I pressed her on what it was. But she was adamant that we wait until later. I was short of time as well, and we departed in opposite directions; me feeling frustrated with her, a most uncustomary feeling.

By the time we had eaten that night, I had convinced myself that she wanted to move out. That she had found someone new. I guessed that it was inevitable. Ava was highly intelligent and also an attractive woman. Her mother had been Vietnamese, her father a Euro-mutt; much like myself. She'd inherited the best of both sides, and had a calm elegance, a willowy suppleness of movement, and a delicacy of features that any man would covet.

Yes, that was what it must be. A new man. How stupid could I have been to think that?

We sat at the dining table. At ninety degrees to each other. Plates pushed to one side. Ava had her black hair back in a sensible ponytail for work, and was wearing her rimless glasses. She looked every inch the committed Biologist that she was. Her work went over my head. Something to do with the spliceosome, whatever that might be. She had been preoccupied during dinner. I knew her well enough to not push things.

Now we sat in a silence that was becoming almost a third presence. I could tell she was fighting some internal battle. Perhaps revisiting a decision she thought she had already made. I felt bad for her and, in my blundering way, tried to help. I put my hand on hers and spoke softly.

"Ava, you know I have loved having you here. I don't know how I would have got through the first few months without you."

"You too, Martin. I needed you as well."

She smiled. But a tight smile, something else clearly on her mind.

"But... but we never said forever. You have your own life and... well, if you have met someone, and..."

Ava laughed. A short and bitter laugh.

"No. No I haven't met anyone. I don't... don't really want that. Not now at least."

I blushed, my reading of people was clearly off. Or maybe it had been my own fears speaking to me. I realized that I desperately wanted her to stay.

"Oh, I'm sorry. My stupid mistake. I just think that a lot of men would like you, the way... the way Josh did. He was crazy about you. But I'm rambling. Telling you things you know. I'm sorry. Just an old man getting it wrong."

"You're not so old, Martin. And thank you for the compliment. You mentioned Josh. It's sort of Josh I want to talk to you about."

She leaned towards me. Wanting to speak softly.

"Martin, I feel I have nothing to live for. I feel so empty. Work doesn't mean what it used to. In fact I blame work. He'd wanted to, he'd really wanted to. And I had this major project. And... and then it was too late. You think you have time..."

She trailed off leaving me confused.

"I know, honey. I know. I miss both Van and Josh, every hour, every day. But, I have something to live for. I have Alexis. And Sophia. And, Ava, I have you. I hoped that maybe I had helped... you know, just a little..."

It was my turn to run out of words.

"Of course you have helped."

She squeezed my hand.

"Without you... well... I have been thinking about Dad a lot..."

Tears sprung into her eyes and a cold horror into my heart. I went and knelt in front of Ava, embracing her. Holding her close. This was nothing strange, we always tried to comfort each other, and sometimes physical comfort is more powerful than words.

I raised her lovely face. I kissed her forehead.

"Now, no more of that, Ava. You don't need to despair. You have me. You will always have me."

She nodded and wiped away her tears.

"I know, and I'm grateful, truly. But... but I need more."

"What do you need, Ava? What can I do to help?"

A shudder ran through her. She tried to collect herself, but her voice was hoarse and trembled as she spoke.

"I did an awful job of explaining. Let me go slower. Josh wanted to have children. He wanted to start trying even before we were married."

I nodded. He'd talked to me about it.

"But.. I... It's not that I didn't, I did. But I thought later. I thought maybe when I'd finished the project. We were so close to a breakthrough, and... and, at least back then, it seemed important. Not anymore. Not now. So... so we agreed to wait. Not long. A year, maybe. But we never had that year."

Again she began to sob, but more softly than before.

"It's OK, Ava. Take your time. It's OK."

She took a few deep breaths. As if she was preparing to dive into water. And then she dove.

"I want that still. I want the baby I can't have. I want his baby, Martin."

I held her again. Her slim form heaving. I was bemused, no idea where this conversation was going. But I knew to hold her.

She rallied a little, and pulled back from my embrace.

"But, I can't. I know I can't. I thought about adopting. I thought about a sperm bank. But that doesn't work. I don't want a baby, I want his baby."

She bowed her head.

"I understand, Ava. But there is nothing to be done. It's heart-breaking, I know."

Ava slowly raised her eyes, her head to one side, looking at me slightly askew.

"Well... oh fuck this is hard!"

In all the time that I had known her, I'd never heard Ava use an expletive. It was jarring.

"I can't have Josh's baby. I know."

She looked at me unblinkingly.

"But I can maybe do the next best thing."

She was silent. It took me some seconds to realize her meaning. Then it hit me.

"You... you mean... with me..."

"No. Not with you. Not like that. But would you consider donating...? It's weird. I know. I know. I've gone round and round. I had to ask. I understand if you say no. I expect you to say no. But I had to ask."

She paused, overcome with emotion. Maybe not believing what she had just asked.

I could find no words.

When Ava spoke again, she was barely audible.

"I think... I think it's the only thing that might make me whole again. I wouldn't ask, but I'm desperate. I'm so scared of what I'm feeling."

I was scared of what I was feeling too. When I first heard the words, I had been horrified, sickened. But then the distress in the eyes of a woman I now viewed as my daughter was so great, that I felt compelled to do something.

I stroked her face.

"Ava. You are asking a lot. Maybe too much. But, can I think? I have so many questions. Can I think about whether or not I can help? I... I don't want to create false hope, but... but at least half of me wants to help. But... it may not even be legal. I just don't know. Can we talk in the morning?"

"Of course. Of course. Thank you for even thinking about it. I know I'm guilt-tripping you. I'm sorry. Some things just came out. I've been struggling with what to say."

I hugged her.

"Aside from anything else, thank you for talking to me. For trusting me. That means a lot."

I kissed her forehead again as a goodnight, and we walked together up the stairs. Me turning left, her right.

"Goodnight, Martin. You have been a good friend."

"It's no problem, honey. Goodnight, Ava."

It was past three when exhaustion eventually took over. I was no closer to figuring out what to do. And what I wanted.

I found Ava in the kitchen again the next morning. It was Saturday and we had time. She was in her PJs and had made coffee. The temperature was already building, and we went and sat under a tree in the yard. Vanessa and I used to have breakfast there sometimes.

There was an understandable tension between us. Last night had not been a normal conversation. I started, trying not to blunder as much as I had before.

"So, I thought. And I went round in circles. And I think we need to discuss some specifics. Is that OK?"

"That's OK, Martin. I'm sorry to have put you in this impossible position. It's not fair, I know. I just didn't feel like I had an alternative."

"It's OK. We can figure this out. Can I ask some questions?"

"Sure."

I tried to sound dispassionate, but my heart was thumping.

"Look, I'm going to be blunt. No point having misunderstandings. Agreed?"

She nodded.

"Great. So, I am assuming, we go to a clinic, or something."

"I'd do it myself. I spend enough time in tissue culture. And I've looked into it, no clinic will even talk to us. But if you are asking about methods, then artificial insemination. I'd need you to masturbate into a sterile cup."

I couldn't help a rueful laugh.

"I'm sorry, Ava. I'm trying to be OK with this, but listening to you saying those words. Well, it's pretty weird."

"I know, I'm treating it as a materials and methods section, I think it's to stop myself from freaking out."

She put a hand on my knee.

"It's so kind of you to even talk about this. If it gets too much, we can stop."

"OK, I'll shout if it gets that way."

It was my turn to take some deep breaths.

"What do they say? The elephant in the room? If we do this. And please, I don't know yet. But if we do. What am I to the child? What do we even tell it?"

"That's a tough one. I spent a while thinking about it. My conclusion was, it's totally up to you. At one extreme, this would just be between us, the child doesn't need to know anything. At another, we are open and say you are its father. In between, I suppose there are options around grandfather. What do you want to do?"

This was something I had been wrestling with last night.

"The honest answer is, I don't know. For me, I think I'd like it to know I'm its father. But then, I think what would be best for the child? And that could be another answer. There is also legal stuff to consider and inheritance."

"I know this is hard, Martin. Want to take a break?"

"No. No. I'm good. There is also the extent that you might want me to be involved in rearing the child. That links to the last question. I think I'd like to be involved, more than involved. But, what if you meet someone else? I know you said you weren't interested. But that could change. Christ! This is complicated."

"So, I'm going to say again, it's up to you. I don't have any financial or time expectations. As far as I am concerned you can be a doting grandparent, I don't need anything more; I promise I will never demand anything more. But if you want to, then that's great, and I'm sure we can work something out."

She paused. Then her voice was tremulous.

"Other people? I don't know, that feels like a long time off, if ever. But you are right, I could change my mind. There could be someone..."

Ava looked at me, eyes blinking in the early morning sun. She seemed to be wresting with some internal emotion. To be about to say something. Then she appeared to change her mind. Once more her tone became considered.

"Can I just say that I trust you to treat any change in circumstance in a way that is best for the child? Our child."

That emphasis brought me up short.

"Our child? Is that what you think?"

"Yes of course. I don't mean by that anything more than biological reality. We should legally record parentage, regardless of what we tell the child. I'd want to know you were there if anything happened to me. And, if I did meet someone, then you would have rights, and I promise to both respect them and to work out anything amicably."

"OK. I have other questions. Lots. But I'd like to digest this conversation. Can I have some more time? I really don't want to mess this up."

"Of course, Martin. It's just... well..."

"What is it Ava?"

"Well, one reason to talk to you now is my cycle. We could... we could try in two days time. I'm not trying to pressure you. OK, that's a lie, I know I am, but I guess I feel bad about it. We can wait another month, if that makes sense. I don't want to screw this up either. And I don't want to ruin our relationship. So think really hard about whether you can really cope with this. I won't hate you if you say no. Nothing will change between us. I'm already so grateful that you are even thinking about it."

She stood and embraced me. Hugged me tightly. Then she kissed me on the lips. A chaste kiss, but a startling one. She said nothing else apart from that I should take as much time as I needed.

Our coffee and our talk both finished, we walked back to the house.

We didn't see so much of each other for the rest of the day. Ava had a competitor's draft paper that she was reviewing for a journal, and I decided a walk would do me good. There was park not far from the house, and I strode many of its paths, trying to get things straight in my head.