Pakistan: Brother and George.
As George’s dad lay dying, his mother would tell us nothing. She forbad the doctors and the nursing home to give us any information either. We were allowed to visit. Why she had this ingrained wall of privacy that she defended even to her own death, we did not know. Certainly she was attempting to maintain control to the very end. She taught her children well.
We knew his brother had retired early but not why. Only yesterday when G’s brother posted a gaunt selfie from a big city hospital showing all the wires and tubes, did we know how ill he had become.
Late in the evening, after I caretook for ages, did G overcome his mother’s teaching and reach the right hospital. Half an hour later, an unfamiliar voice called asking for “Georgie.” I had to laugh. No, he hadn’t enjoyed the 172 mile flight in an unpressurized helicopter. Yes, the permanent pacemaker was installed and he was to head home today. Communication begun.