every person must accept that everyone is going to die... its just when and how it happens that is unknown.
Yes, but there are innumerable variables. When my one sister died (after I had been diagnosed with PTSD) of a pulmonary embolism while in excellent health and on holiday in Mauritius, my reaction was 'normal'. When a lover died, in a car accident on the way home after visiting me, my reaction was 'normal'. When my mother died, I went over the edge, as her death left me with a plethora of unresolved issues.
When my eldest sister died in 2012 the circumstances were ... different. She was the only family my daughter and I had - immediate and extended - apart from the two siblings the police have advised me to get protections order against. On two occasions my eldest sister intervened in situations where my sick sister had involved the authorities (welfare and police) in attempts to get custody of my daughter (yes, it is THAT insane!).
There are rumours that my eldest sister was actually my biological mother. (I've never had the courage to get a copy of my birth certificate). We lived in different cities and spoke to each other on the phone every morning before 7. She had bronchitis. I asked her to see a doctor, she said she would, but needed to get a few things done before going. I phoned my nephew and asked him to nag her to go to a doc. Cut to the chase - she saw a doc, there were complications, she was admitted to hospital. My nephew and I arranged that I would go up to take care of her once she was back home. I often spoke to the physician who assured me she would be fine. One morning my nephew phoned me as the hospital had phoned him, saying she was not doing well. He was panicky and asked me to talk to her. He held the phone next to her ear, I spoke to her for a while, then told her I loved her. There was a long beep. Her heart had stopped.
I'm not saying this is what caused my PTSD. My PTSD was old hat. But being left 'alone' in the world with my primary caretaker (sick sister) and her sidekick, and ... lots of other very hectic stuff, kicked my PTSD into gear - and I had, for the first and only time, flashbacks to my childhood in the care of sick sibling and her sidekick. The context also included the fact that I had a mother who repeatedly abandoned me, two primary caretakers who were respectively 10 and 12 years older than me, and rather f*cked up individuals, and then another sibling who might have been my real mother. So for me questions about 'my mother' are confusing.
I've always been almost self-conscious about how her death tipped me over the edge. Her death was more 'expected' (statistically) that my other sister's death, and yet ... No study in the world can factor in all variables.
Apologies for the ramble: I'm just relieved to feel 'normal' having read the article.