My mother died almost 10 years ago, and as heartbreaking as it was, our family was so thankful to have incredible hospice support so she could pass peacefully at home. In the months leading up to her death, my siblings and I were able to spend about half of our time at my parents’ house (we lived a few states away). Near the end, we were there all the time. When I traveled there, I did not bring a computer with me and occasionally would use my dad’s computer, with his permission. One evening as I opened the laptop, his Gmail screen was up. Without opening any emails, I could see from the text snippets that he was sending intimate emails to another woman, setting up meetings with her and ordering lingerie for her. All while my mom was dying in our living room. Although I know my parents’ marriage was none of my business, I have every reason to believe that this was not a relationship my mother was aware of. My mother passed away about two weeks later.

I have told only my therapist and my past partner about what I saw. I have not told my siblings, nor have I acted in such a way that my father would know. I understand that looking at his email screen was an invasion of his privacy, but it is most certainly not something I can unsee. We were never particularly close, and this information has strained my relationship with him. I have some guilt about not telling my siblings, as well as not making the most of what most likely are the last few years I have with my dad.

I had a wonderful relationship with my mother, I miss her dearly and feel vehemently protective of her. Over time, and through therapy, the burden of this knowledge has shifted but has not become lighter. I truthfully feel that if one of my siblings had this knowledge, I would want them to tell me. I have not yet been able to decide in my mind and heart if I will tell my siblings before he passes, after he passes, or ever. Please help! — Name Withheld

From the Ethicist:

You stumbled, unwittingly, on a very narrow slice of your father’s private life at a moment of extraordinary strain. The notion of him ordering lingerie for this woman while your mother was in the next room is repellent, and it has understandably lodged in your mind. But you don’t know what the relationship amounted to, or whether it continued. What you do know is that he didn’t end up with this person.

A decade after your mother’s death, the question is what to do for the living. You can’t do anything for your mother; you can, however, spare your siblings unnecessary distress. You say you’d want to know if they were in your position. But wanting to know isn’t the same as having a right to know, and it’s not the same as being better off for knowing. Unless there’s some family decision that would properly turn on this knowledge, telling them risks spreading your pain without purpose.

I recognize that families sometimes grow closer after the airing of difficult truths, and that if your siblings were to respond not with shock or recrimination but with compassion and equipoise, telling them might help you feel less alone. Your feelings matter. But they aren’t all that matters, and there may be other ways of healing. What about speaking with your father? You might tell him what you saw; let him know that it still troubles you. He may or may not have an explanation or, anyway, a story that complicates the one you’ve told yourself. The philosopher Margaret Urban Walker once wrote, with considered simplicity, that without knowing other people’s stories, “I really cannot know how it is with others towards whom I will act.”

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