Death oh, oh ever teach me…

Death is always a family affair. When you have one family, or two. But then who defines ‘the’ family? Is it the deceased’s ‘first family,’ the first wife, the first children, or is it the new life partner who typically is much younger and who almost exclusively has visited the dying patient in the hospital on a daily basis during the past weeks and months? So – when the family member finally passes on, after a drawn-out battle with cancer, for instance, who should be called? The next of kin in the official medical record? The gray-haired attorney who spent an entire afternoon a month ago to rewrite the patient’s final will? Who left instructions? To whom? When? Proxy anyone? Death, the inquisitor.

And then, most people are not afraid of death or dying but are afraid of they will be dying: gently in one’s sleep? With