Momento Mori

There were plenty of theories about what happened after death.  An inky black void where you were alone with your thoughts for the rest of eternity, starting over again in a new body which depended on how good your deeds had been in the life you just left; and of course another plane of existence entirely.  The good believers are allowed to go up and meet the being the church worshipped and the bad ones were sent elsewhere...at least based on what Mortimer told him last time he got to go see him.  The devout got to go into a loving embrace, and continue the work that they did in their actual life where this time they don't have the end of their human life to worry about. However some of them didn't even die of old age, they were chosen, from what the gravedigger's son had been told, and died early. There was no betrayal from their mortal body, but instead they were sent forth when their time was up...almost as a form of job promotion because they played their role right.
Eros didn't think he was going to get such a treatment when he died, the only reason he even knew the look of what they prayed to was the stained glass window that faced out to the grave site he followed his father to.  He almost never went inside himself yet, most of the adults were mean to him when he had; the child was an outsider more than even his father. The man in question counted in the tally as well but at least Eros got to see him more frequently, he practically only saw him and the son of the head priest and nun. The older man spoke the same words they did, or rolled his eyes when he ended up tearing up again; but the boy had hardly reached 10. Do you think he'd complain about any interaction he could get? Eros could ignorantly believe that there was love in the harsh, believing childishly and obsessively so that his words could ring positive in intent. It was once again he remained devout, the church's god came first, or something his young brain couldn't understand.

         It felt like something he wasn't supposed to get in a strange way.

———

Work in the evening was quite common for the family, more intended for the father than the son; he only followed to keep him and the "client" company through the digging and digging.  The scenery wasn't just filled with graves itself, but with the silence and impending darkness based on how long you were there you could get a small taste of that void from theory. It feels scary to the boy of course, the infinite where it feels like no light can touch you during the moments the candle brought for work burned out. It was lonely almost, and too quiet but he wasn't supposed to cry or talk or anything of that sort while father worked.  "It wasn't right of him" to do so, he'd be told over and over, or how there was no point when he barely knew the person, what attached him to them so? The difference became all the more clear now that another joined them at their home for the deceased this time...Mortimer, there for his own mother, even though his father was not present.
"Goodbye, Mrs. Head nun."  The child's voice was a pitiful quiver that conveyed the emotion yet only resembled the intended words in part; crouched at the edge of the grave hole, just watching as deeper and deeper the woman sank into the pit.  Dull thud after dull thud, the weight only grew atop of the wooden box as the gravedigger continued to subtract from the dirt he'd put above ground for barely even an hour by that point.  In turn it was the same scoff as always after a glance; but the gaunt boy much closer in age soon came to take up the spot beside Eros, he only actually became aware of the fact once his hand found its way to his shoulder. Mortimer's hand was as cold as the dead that could be found within the area, quickly causing the other to flinch.
          "She wouldn't want you to be upset for her, if that helps." He spoke after his shoulders untensed and Eros soon changed where he put his gaze, favouring the one at his side; Mortimer didn't bother to do the same though, his eyes remaining on the hole. Eros's father had filled a third of it by now, leaving her to disappear forever now and even though Eros felt the hand start to clamp down on his shoulder ever so slightly...picking at the fabric; he didn't try to comment. Instead he asked for the validity with a small hum, not even going above the volume from the first time he opened his mouth.
          Why, why, why? Did that mean she was happy to die?
          "She was almost at the point of stepping back from her position. Father says when they reach the end of their time it has to happen, so I...think she was happy to have this happen, not scared." The black haired boy made an attempt to explain further and his idle fidgeting only ended up getting worse, which was something that was rather rare when it came to Mortimer. Eros wasn't one to miss out when it came to people, sure Mortimer was poised and tried to be a blank slate but he wasn't a stone statue no matter how hard he tried. He was a person and Eros could tell there was some struggle, in spite of his attempt to hide behind trying to enlighten him. Mortimer was living just like Eros is...and he was holding together for the most part. Was this just another thing he wasn't supposed to understand? Death means you can't be with the person anymore and from what Eros could tell the head nun was one of the kinder people amongst their ranks. She had been healthy, seemingly happy and diligent in the church, isn't death giving that up?