A Beginning And An Ending

Prompt from DailyPrompt.com

CW: Terminal illness.

I shouldn’t have read the letter. Should’ve waited for later. After the family get-together. When it’s safe to fall apart. I just… I knew the uncertainty would hang over me until I faced whatever the doctors had sent. I thought that would be more distracting, harder to deal with, than concrete bad news.
Maybe it would be. I’ll never know for sure, now.
The party is lively. It should be cheering me up. Instead it feels like I’m drifting through someone else’s dream. Utterly out of place and unsure what’s real.
My mind’s unable to put together the two truths of today. I’m an uncle. And I’ve got maybe a year to live.
Piper looks exhausted yet deliriously happy. Cory is glued to her side, oblivious to the rest of the room, using the same “keeping on top of things, heading off problems” focus which makes him an amazing tank. Though he says so far, being a dad is more like playing a support caster.
I’m happy for them. I just can’t feel it right now. Can’t feel much of anything.
I focus on the fragile scrap of life cradled in Piper’s arms. My nibling. Piper made a point of saying that, after cousin Rory turned out to be Rachel, she wasn’t going to assume. Which I think is wise. And Ridley is a fab name for anyone. I hope they can live up to it. Whatever kind of person they turn out to be.
I’ll never know. How they identify, whether they like sports, what their favourite colour is, are they an animal person… a whole list of questions I’d never articulated before but it sprung up so easily I guess my brain always had it filed away. “Things I should know about anyone I’m uncle-ing”. A character sheet which I won’t have time to fill out. Since right now, well…
Despite feeling I really ought to find Ridley cute, honestly they’re putting me in mind of part-baked bread. Pale. Sort of wrinkly. Squished. Normally I’d say so to Piper - it’s the sort of observation which makes her laugh. But right now I can’t face her. Can’t properly face anyone. Maybe later.
Once I’ve had the face-to-face with the doctors. Once I know for certain - as much as I can, at least. And once enough time has passed that hopefully I won’t be colouring poor Ridley’s birthday forever.
Is that how they’re going to know me? As their uncle who found out he was dying the same week they were born?
That… doesn’t sit right with me. A silly thing to latch onto. Or is it? Perhaps it’s just a manageable, tangible place to start with the daunting process of “wrapping up my affairs”.
I want… well. Fundamentally I don’t want to die, and I’ll be taking every option offered to me. Seizing onto any hope. But. If none of them work… I want to have been present enough in Ridley’s life that I’m not just some tragic one-note ghost. I want Piper and Cory to be able to say, with absolute conviction, “He loved you and would’ve loved to be here with you”.
With that resolution, a decision made, my mind settles a little. I’m able to push the rest of my crushing issue aside. For now. Focus on getting started.
Be here, be present, with Piper. And Cory, and Ridley. Hold Ridley when it’s offered. Ask someone to take a photo. Make plans to check in with the new parents soon.
After that face-to-face appointment.

Prompt was “A character who has just received bad news must attend a celebration for someone else. How do they manage?”