My recent experience with my two Aunts dying less than two months apart is only a faint shadow of what it’s like to lose a parent. My mother’s middle sister was sarcastic and blunt, but also adventurous and lived on the opposite coast from me so I rarely spent much time with her. My mother’s second sister, my Lesbian(?) Aunt, was around most of my childhood, but we never really had a conversation together. Two sisters who were more unalike than they were alike. Unusual for the era, my grandparents sent all five of their daughters to college in the ‘40s and ‘50s. I’ll miss them, but I never really knew them.
Louis is much younger than I was when I lost my parents. In the case of my mother who died first, she had suffered from a very long period of decline. She had severe memory problems that we thought were Alzheimer’s, but were diagnosed as a brain tumor. The tumor was successfully removed, but she never regained her memories and wasn’t herself by then. With my father, he had a cancer in his throat and he too had successful surgery. But it recurred and he decided not to have any treatment due to his age (it was unlikely to have any effect in any case). He died a year and a half after my mother.