Beware the mention of natural causes, as in my mother's obituary:
"Norita Wyse Berman, a writer, stockbroker and artist ... died at home Friday of natural causes. She was 60."
Sixty-year-olds don't die of natural causes anymore. The truth was too hard to admit.
Fifteen years on, I'm ashamed of my family's shame. Those attending her funeral and paying shiva calls knew the truth anyway. People talk.
One of the many ironies of dying young is that my mother was a true believer in modern medicine. She had a cabinet full of elixirs and potions for which she paid top dollar. For most of her life she never paid retail for anything, so the medicine cabinet was testament to her insecurity about fleeting beauty and a quest for longevity. Others around her might succumb to aging, but my mom had confidence that her vitamins and nutraceuticals could hold back Father Time.
Her anxieties predated the Internet and the rise of Dr. Oz. I know she'd have become a big fan of the telegenic surgeon, and would have asked why I couldn't have a practice more like his. After all, she told me more than once, "Making money is not a sin."
[For more of this story, written by John Henning Schumann, go to http://www.npr.org/sections/he...tural-cause-of-death]
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