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.

The Jeweler

Sometimes , when I look in the mirror and notice my earrings, I recall for a minute the smiling, kind face and  sweet french accent of the one who has  sold them to me - the jeweler from the Shopping Center passage.

At the end of that  year of the earrings' purchase, I returned to the jewelery shop . I had some buying plans for the new  upcoming year, and I thought that would be the best place to get quality at a decent price, and excellent customer service.

The shop was closed.  There was an obituary both on the window and on the entrance door.  I was shocked. The man was barely middle-aged, too young to die.

I entered the neighboring shop to get some information. Had he been ill? was it an accident?
"He was murdered", came the neighbor's answer."The police had arrested a suspect".
Murdered?!!  I was shocked again.

There were customers in the neighboring shop, so I couldn't go on with  my questions, but I promised myself to get the whole story. 
I supposed it was a robbery attempt that went  wrong. 

As I happened to know someone on the board of our local newspaper I asked to have a word with him on the matter.He informed me that the story won't be published  any time-  at the specific request of the deceased's family.

It appeared the jeweler  (married, with wife and kids) was sexually involved  with a young man, in charge of the cleaning of the shops in the passage. The young  lover was arrested by the police and charged with murder.

Whenever I'm in the vicinity, and enter the shopping passage, I see deterioration: empty, closed shops , frequent change of names and ownership, messy place with items displayed outside the shops, etc..
It occurs to me that perhaps it's some kind of punishment, having to do with the fact that a murder has been committed here, a soul has been taken away by force and it's crying above.

When buying or renting property people usually take interest in the price, physical condition, proximity to important places. Few are interested in the dark history of the asset such as past tragic events involving death. These few are usually people who believe in superstitions or have religious/mystical beliefs,  and they probably won't buy/rent the asset or part of it after all.