We are told we are ‘born alone, and die alone’ – a phrase meant to universalise isolation in death, and has been a philosophical concept for decades. But for twins, this idea just isn’t true. We are born together, spend formative years together. So what does grief look like when you’ve never experienced life as a singular self?
‘We are born alone and die alone.’
You’ve probably heard some variation of this phrase before, whether from Orson Welles, Hunter S. Thompson or Don Draper in Mad Men. The saying frames death as the ultimate individual experience: singular, isolating, unavoidable.
But for twins, the idea is more complicated.
Twins exist alongside another person from the very start. Research from the University of Washington’s Twin Registry found that twins often report unusually strong emotional attachment and identity formation linked directly to their sibling relationship. Studies into twin bereavement have also shown surviving twins are more likely to experience prolonged grief, loneliness, and identity disruption than non-twin siblings.
Psychologists have argued that twin relationships are unique because identity develops relationally rather than independently. In bereavement studies published in journals such as Death Studies and Twin Research and Human Genetics, surviving twins frequently describe the death of a twin as “losing part of themselves.”
So if your identity has always been shared, can death ever feel entirely individual?
For David Elvy, chairman of the Lone Twin Network, the loss of his twin at birth has shaped his understanding of himself for his entire life.
He was seven years old when he first learned he was a twin and the subject remained largely unspoken throughout his childhood.
This silence stayed with Elvy for decades.
The absence becomes particularly sharp on special occasions and birthdays, where celebration and grief collide.
The Stillbirth and Neonatal Death Society (Sands) was founded as a result of experiences in and prior to the 1970s, where UK families were often encouraged to move forward privately after stillbirth or neonatal death, leaving relatives with little space to process the grief.
“Up until I was 50, nobody ever acknowledged that it would have also been my twin’s birthday,” Elvy said. “Everybody is telling you to be cheerful, and yet part of you is saying, ‘How can I be happy when my twin should be with me?’”
Psychologists studying twin bereavement have found that surviving twins often describe feeling incomplete after loss, particularly because identity can develop relationally from birth. Research published in Twin Research and Human Genetics found surviving twins often report stronger and more prolonged feelings of loneliness, guilt, and identity disruption compared with non-twin sibling bereavement.
Elvy sees this reflected repeatedly through his work with the Lone Twin Network.
“There’s still this common thread, of losing part of yourself.
“And many people have said to me, ‘Well, your twin died at birth, you never knew your twin so what’s your problem?’ At that point, I want to give them a Glasgow kiss, because you are closer in the womb to anybody than you ever will be.”
The Lone Twin Network, founded in 1999, supports people who have lost a twin at any stage of life. The charity offers peer support, meetings, newsletters, and spaces for lone twins to speak openly about experiences that are often misunderstood or dismissed.
For many members, the organisation is the first place where their grief has been recognised by people who can properly understand it. Elvy says many lone twins spend years feeling isolated because conventional ideas of bereavement do not fully capture the complexity of twin loss.
Across those different experiences, Elvy believes wider society still struggles to recognise twin bereavement as distinct.
“There is something unique about losing a twin. It’s different from any other sort of bereavement.”
Twin loss came suddenly and later in life for David’s wife, and membership secretary of the Lone Twin Network, Carmen.
Her twin sister died just seven weeks after receiving a cancer diagnosis.
Unlike David, Carmen had spent decades living alongside her twin. The two had grown older together, sharing birthdays, family life, and routines that suddenly disappeared after her sister’s death.
Research into sibling bereavement suggests the death of a sibling can reshape family roles and emotional stability, but studies focused specifically on twins, like Nancy Segal’s, suggest the psychological impact is often intensified because of the unusually close attachment many twins experience. Experts argue that twin relationships challenge traditional ideas of individuality because twins usually develop alongside another person from the very beginning of life.
Despite their closeness, Carmen rejects the assumption that twins are emotionally identical and emphasises that they were very different people.
That distinction can make the grief harder to simplify. The loss is not about losing a mirror image, but losing a separate person who had still been present throughout every stage of life, while going through the same or similar experiences.
Now, 13 years later, the connection remains part of her daily life.
Before her sister died, Carmen remembers Carol telling her she would leave her signs after death.
“She said, ‘I’m going to leave a coin somewhere where you can’t fail to see it.’”
The day after her sister’s death, Carmen returned to the hospice in heavy rain to collect paperwork and personal belongings. As she approached the building, she said the weather suddenly cleared.
“The clouds opened up and on the doormat was a pound coin.”
Since then, she says she frequently notices coins in unexpected places, something she refers to as ‘Carol money.’
“I feel that she’s aware,” Carmen says. “She’s there, she’s with me, and she’ll never leave me.”
Rather than viewing these moments as irrational, psychologists studying grief often describe them as part of ‘continuing bonds’ – small rituals or symbols that allow bereaved people to maintain emotional connection after death.
Twin relationships occupy a unique place culturally and psychologically. Twins are often portrayed as inseparable pairs, mirrors of one another, or people sharing an unusually intense emotional connection. Scientific studies into twin attachment suggest there may be some truth behind these cultural assumptions.
Researchers from the University of Washington Twin Registry found twins frequently report heightened emotional closeness compared with ordinary sibling relationships, while bereavement studies have shown surviving twins are more likely to experience prolonged grief and feelings of incompleteness.
For lone twins, grief can become tied not only to memory, but to identity itself.
“Odd things, like birthdays, Christmas, stuff like that can be very difficult. Particularly birthdays, when you know there should be two of you, not one,” Elvy says.
That feeling runs throughout the experiences shared by members of the Lone Twin Network. Whether the loss happened before birth or decades into adulthood, many describe living with a persistent awareness of absence.
The phrase “born alone and die alone” depends upon the belief that human beings exist primarily as individuals. But twin bereavement complicates that idea. For some surviving twins, grief is not simply mourning another person — it is mourning a shared existence that was interrupted.
Perhaps that is why twin grief can feel so difficult to articulate. The loss exists not only in memory, but in imagined futures: birthdays, conversations, and lives that never fully happened.
A twin who dies leaves behind more than absence. They leave a person behind to continue as one when they were meant to be two. If you have been affected by twin loss, support and resources are available through the Lone Twin Network.