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Sometimes we learn from the media about the death of a person; no cause of death mentioned (usually at the request of the family). Even if we're curious about cause and circumstances, we accept the lack of information.

It is somehow different when the deceased is someone we've known personally or through online activity such as blogging; it seems then, that curiosity is stronger than us. We even feel 'entitled' to know about the cause of death.

A 69 year old blogger died suddenly at home about 3 months ago.  It was quite a shock! The blogger was a very active person, and l was under the impression that he  was not having any (major) health problems. He felt unwell during the last few days of his life, and passed away  (rip).

I was hoping his wife might perhaps reveal in her blog the cause of his sudden death.  Well, she mentioned him a lot, described the sadness of the days without him, her crying and grieving, but nothing on the cause of death. 

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Until a few years ago, I was having correspondence with a cousin in the USA - a cousin discovered through the internet, while doing a genealogical research. She was of great help to me with this research, and I felt  grateful to her.

At a certain stage, the said cousin (a divorced, registered nurse in her fifties) wrote to me that her younger, single sister  was hospitalized. After a few weeks she informed me of the sister's death.(The two lived in the same big, town).

I was in shock twice: first by the tragic event, and second  by my inability to get any info on what had led to hospitalization and death. I tried both approaches - direct and indirect, to make my cousin tell me what had happened. In vain.

I had my guesses, but why guess, I said to myself, "we're cousins, and we've been in touch for at least three years . Moreover, I've told her in detail about my own tragedy - the sudden , untimely loss of my brother. So why couldn't she tell me what happened to her sister"?

I felt hurt, but , went on with the e-mails, albeit less frequently. I tried to convince myself that her behavior had probably something to do with  specific american mentality with which I was not  familiar, and for the time being, I'd better ignore the whole painful thing.

After a while, she brought up the subject of inheritance (procedures to be dealt with, a town house and a car to be put on sale, etc..) - without even mentioning the name of the sister. It was at that point that I sadly decided to stop the correspondence. Certain things are unacceptable to me, mentality or not.

Of Doctors and Daughters

After retirement, our GP and her husband (also a doctor) moved to another city; sort of a new beginning.
A few years later, the husband died. I happened to come upon the obituary. It said that the deceased was  to be buried  at the cemetery of a city in the north of the country ; the location named was the one where their only daughter lived.

The daughter was a nice girl, but one that made her parents' life a misery. They had plans for her but she strongly disliked school and discipline. Her overall attitude had also isolated them socially, as their circle of friends used to be one of doctors and academics whose children followed in their parents' footsteps.

During her army service the daughter met a russian newcomer; they fell in love and decided to get married. It was not a bad decision. They were both without a profession, but his parents helped and put them on the right track.

In the meantime,  the 'new beginning' for the two doctors was rather one of loneliness. I met them once in the new city and they opened up.  They were each an only child to their parents, and so no siblings and nephews, only some distant cousins. They did keep in touch with their daughter who lived far, but failed to overcome their disappointment in her, so no close relationship.

When I read the obituary, I said to myself that  'frau doctor', the fresh widow, was probably going now to sell the apartment and move near  daughter and her family. The very right thing to do, and it would involve acceptance and reconciliation.
The daughter and son in law  were not perhaps highly educated, but still- good, decent people. That's what she needed in her old age - a good, caring family with grand kids to enjoy.

I felt glad for her, especially that she had once said some very kind words about my father. "He never leaves my office with the back to me; he moves slowly towards the door with his face towards me, out of  respect". Yes, that was him: always kind and respectful.

Dad

Both my parents were fond of their GP  as she spoke their language (rumanian) and shared their mentality. Giving medication was not her first choice. She used to advise her patients  to try  change of diet, leaving a toxic partner or place of work , minimal commuting. In a way she was ahead of her time; in those days the doctor was mainly expected to find the problem and give medication, not suggest how the patient should live his life.