Thomas is warm. Like he is in an embrace that will never end. A patient, calm, feeling of being loved so dearly that someone will never let go washes over him as he fades fully into this new reality. A voice calls to him. Edith. And then there are others, laughter, and the sound of little bells as everyone moves together toward him in a crush of...not bodies, for they do not have bodies, but of something. Energy. Souls. Whatever. It is not sight, in the traditional sense, but something different, that tells him his entire family is there, Charlotte's branch, Eliot's branch, Edith, and Alan. And they are all so happy that he has joined them. And somewhere in this energy, he feels Enola's spirit, and his son's, and he is overjoyed to know they are both here, and have been embraced by his family.
He has felt this feeling once before, this utter peace in the knowledge of love unconditional. Late night, after he and Edith explored one another's bodies for the first and only time, he had watched her in awe and wonder, his heart full, his mind free of the questions that he knew would come in the morning. It is this same feeling that fills him now as he is nuzzled and snuggled by the souls around him.
Sir Thomas Sharpe is dead.
But he is also at peace.