10 minutes… 10 minutes to take away a father from his family. It wasn't a drunk driver or some teen texting. It was his own heart that betrayed him and stopped, sending him into oncoming traffic. The accident backed up the roads for hours. Countless times I'd read news articles or watched reports about accidents that caused traffic jams. Each time, I'd breezed past, feeling a fleeting moment of sympathy before I got to put the paper down or turn to another station for my weather report. This time I couldn't. Would we put a tiny shrine to my father in the place that he died with a picture, fake flowers, and silk ribbons? I'd seen those countless times but never realized those little shrines were eternal remnants of someone's last moment on Earth. Inside bent metal, among the roar of a busy highway… my father had his last moment on Earth.

It was strange being in my parents' house knowing that my father wasn't in his office. I hadn't been there in over 3 months, but nothing had changed much.

It wasn't a major fall out that kept me away from the home where I grew up. Of course I saw my parents at family vacations and other events, but I couldn't come here. There was safety in meeting them out. Here I'd be pressed for answers about why I, their beloved son, did not have someone. I must have thought of a million ways that conversation could have gone. Now, I'm here.

It was never a warm home with the smell of cookies and potpourri, and it's always seemed empty, but I swear it's never felt vacant enough for an echo or still enough to hear a pin drop.

"Alec. I didn't hear you come in. Let me get your coat." Said Sandy, the maid. When we were younger she was our nanny, providing the warmth our parents could not. I think she provided it to them too, helping them along so that they could love us better. Jace used to jokingly call her Mrs. Potts because like Mrs. Potts, her tea was superb and she knew what to say to make problems seem smaller.

"Thanks Sandy. Where's mom?"

"She's in her and your father's room. Alec, I'm so sorry."

"Thanks." I said.

I realized again how real this was. Even Sandy had nothing to say to ebb the pain, because it was written on her face too.

My mother was on autopilot gathering my father's clothes for the funeral. It's not something she's ever done before, not even when her own parents died and she had to make arrangements. It's times like this when I realize there are different types of love. They were somewhat cold as parents, but had warmth that they only shared with one another.

Her eyes were rimmed red, not from crying, but like she'd been up all night; her usually neatly styled hair was in tangles down her back. She had never looked more like Isabelle.

"Now what do you think would be best him?" she asked, holding a dark blue pocket square up with a paisley pattern and a dark blue pocket square with a plaid pattern. My father was a stickler for professional colors, but a sucker for bold patterns. It was his "cheat."

"Paisley." I tell her. "Do you have to do this now? You look like you should rest."

"They'll need his clothes soon. I need to have them ready. I was thinking the navy suit. He always liked that one. Then the silk tie you gave him for his birthday." She went to the closet and flipped through the articles of clothing on his side. It looked like a twister hit the walk-in, but I didn't say anything. Her hands started to tremble as she looked frantically through my father's wide array of ties.

"Mom?" I called.

"It's here somewhere. Just give me a minute, Alec!" She said, pulling out fabric frantically with both hands like she was digging through dirt for some treasure that wasn't there. I wanted to stop her, but I knew this had to happen. Something broke inside of her and she stopped.

"Oh I forgot… that tie is gone now. The paramedics had to cut it. He was wearing it when… when…."

She fell to the floor with her hands over her face. I kneeled down beside her to hug her. I remember the days when she seemed like a giant and in those days, when she was free to be my mother and not destroying boardrooms I'd bury myself in her side and relish in her warmth and the scent of Chanel No.5.

She cried for a while but then, as if someone hit a switch, she stopped. She got up, she righted herself, and dabbed her eyes.

"Right then… We'll go with a solid blue tie. He has a million. Cufflinks…"

"Cufflinks."

We looked through the box of cufflinks, all freshly polished.

"What about the diamond ones that grandpa got him when he graduated college?" I asked

"No. Not those."

"But he loved them."

A million times, at least, he'd told me, Jace, and Isabelle the story about how grandpa had given him the cufflinks and how happy and proud he'd been. He swore they were lucky and anytime he was closing a big deal, he wore them. He even gave them credit for him meeting my mother, and for her agreeing to marry him after only 7 months of dating. He wore them when all of us were born, too.

"He did… but… he was planning to give them to you. They're stated in his will and he wanted you to have them."

I took the cufflinks in my hands, reading the inscription "My Son. I am proud."

We picked the sapphire pair that my mother had given to him for their first anniversary.

When I got home it felt just as empty as my parent's house. I could still smell the incense Magnus liked to burn, though. His mug was still sitting by the coffee maker, waiting for him to have his morning cuppa. He left the items of a life behind, but he took all the life with him.

I haven't spoken to him since he left. He called to give his condolences, but I was in the shower and missed the call. When I called back, he didn't answer.

These past couple of days have to be the first time Jace and I have nothing to say to one another since being thrown together by biology and the universe. The way we comforted each other after rejections and minor let downs in life does not work for this. We've gotten lunch every day since we all accompanied our mother to identify our father's body and there hasn't even been small talk worthy of filling the silence.

I poured myself as much brandy (a Christmas gift my father gave me years ago) as Magnus's coffee mug could hold.

"You need a real drink. Not any of that prissy champagne or mixed crap you young people drink nowadays," He said.

"I'll keep that in mind."

"This drink is a drink of sophistication and business. It's aged to perfection, like a good lawyer, and also strong and bitter, like a good negotiator. A little gives you clarity, too much gives you overconfidence. To drink this responsibly is a mark of true manhood."

I sat by the window in the dark, thinking about everything that you're not supposed to think about when you're emotionally vulnerable. I thought about how much joy Max and Jace gave him as they did all the man things like: hunt, fish, and play sports. I thought about how confused my father looked when I told him I wasn't following in his footsteps to slay Wall Street, but that I'd open a fabrics and tailoring shop instead. I thought about how ashamed I felt compared to the rest of my family and their greatness. I've always felt like an ant, expecting the crumbs of their love and I'm surprised when I get a big chunk of it…so surprised that I don't know what to do with it, or how to return it.

I can't believe he gave me those cufflinks.

I wondered in the car ride if my mother was delirious in her grief. I felt like she might call me at any moment and tell me she thought I was Jace the entire time and that my father actually left them to him.

Why would he give me those cufflinks? I sat drinking and ruminating about what it could mean.

By the time my doorbell rang, I'd made it to the bottom of Magnus's coffee mug twice, switching from the expensive brandy to the Patron that Magnus kept stashed in the deep freezer.

I opened the door, not caring who was on the other side of it.

"Whew! You smell like the bottom of New Year's Eve party." Clary said..

"How kind of you." I grin, and hiccup.

"Do you even have any blood left, or is it just booze running through your veins?" She said, as she walked over the threshold and into the apartment, uninvited. "Have any wine?"

I nodded to the counter and continued my impersonation of a drunken couch potato.

"I'd ask how you're holding up but…" She pointed to my current state.

"This is how I'm doing. I'm drunk, and alone, and drinking alone. I'm dumped and halfway to being orphaned."

Clary sat beside me, slipping off her shoes and curling her legs underneath her with a modest glass of dry white. I thought she looked as bright and shiny as usual, but I quickly realized that I was wrong. Her eyes are not as bright as they normally are.

"Want to ride with us tomorrow? She asked.

I'd considered not going, but I knew I could never do that. I shrugged my shoulders. I hadn't thought about how I'd get there, or what I'd wear, or any other logistics that get lost in the mix after a death.

"Your mother wants you to do the eulogy."

This is news.

"Really? Me? Why not-"

"Jace is not going to be the best person to do that and you know it."

She was right. Jace would no doubt turn the funeral into a roast. How could my mother think I would be the best choice to give my dad's eulogy, though? Why not someone else? Anyone else?

Anyone except Jace… especially Jace.

"When was she planning on tell me this bit of information?"

Clary scrunched up her nose, "Uh. Now?" She said sheepishly.

I should've known this wasn't a social call.

"Where are you going?" She asked.

"I'm going to write the eulogy." I replied, staggering to my room to find the right words to say.

Thanks everyone for still checking on the story. Hello new readers and welcome back old friends!