Fred and Kate have been married for 20 years. Fred is in not-great health, though it’s nothing that appears immediately life-threatening. He’s 48. He takes a lot of medication.
Fred and Kate get into a big fight yesterday morning, then Kate leaves for work. While she’s gone, Fred dies.
The cops come and look at all the medications and say they don’t really suspect suicide. Kate can choose whether to have an autopsy.
Kate says she doesn’t know if she wants to know what he died of for fear it was suicide, because if it was suicide she would “hate him forever.”
A friend of mine told me this story this morning about his friend Kate. I felt that I would simply HAVE to know what my husband died of if it wasn’t abundantly clear. I think not knowing would be worse than any truth.
Would you have the autopsy if it were your choice?
And is anyone else surprised that it is her choice?
Edited to add: Oh, and this story hits home for me for so many reasons. Coming home to find that my husband is dead is one of my most persistent anxieties. Ack.