in which i vaguely deploy my archives degree

So my uncle is dying. My aunt, a few days ago, asked if I knew my late grandparents' Hebrew names. (This was before she'd said how bad it was; I foolishly assumed this information would be used only in people's prayers for his recovery, but now I know it will likely be used on his headstone.) I knew my grandfather's, but had never been told my grandmother's. My late father would have known, but he and his late sister are obviously not in a position to tell us. I suggested that my grandmother's brother—side note, poor guy is about 85 and when this is over will have buried his parents, his only brother, all three of his sisters, and all three of one of those sister's children; like, what vindictive deity's corn flakes did he pee in as a kid?—might know; there's also a cousin in Chicago and one in Houston who seem like the sort of record keepers who might know or be able to find out such a thing.

No dice. Totally distraught great-uncle doesn't know; Dad's cousin S doesn't know; Grandma's cousin L doesn't know. Mom can't find it in any of Dad's family-tree stuff. L and her husband, as well as my mother-in-law, assure us that lacking a parent's Hebrew name one can substitute Avram (for men) or Sarah (for women), because Abraham and Sarah were the father and mother of us all. But just asking three people and then giving up ( isn't how we do things here. )