When my husband was diagnosed with lung cancer at the age of fifty five, a year and a half after he had been treated for prostate cancer, he asked his doctor whether the two cancers were related and what was the reason for his illness? The doctor answered that it was an extreme case of bad luck. Five months later he died, and then I started hearing comments from different people about my husband’s role in his tragic destiny. They never explicitly said that it was his own fault that he died, but implied that perhaps it was because he had been unhappy in his childhood, (or with me). Often they inquired whether he smoked, disliked his job, didn’t exercise or ate junk food.
The people who either shared those speculations with me or asked questions about my husband’s life style and emotional being, must have thought that finding the reason for his illness would help me come to terms with my loss. It didn't.
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