I’d pretty much have to know. I just don’t know how I could not know. I’d be way, way too curious. I might regret knowing once I did, but I couldn’t live with the uncertainty. I hate unknowns.
I would want to know. Even if it was painful, I think it would be a lesser hurt than forever wondering. The only thing that might change this is if the life insurance meant me starving or not.
I’d want to know. Somehow I think it would be integral to the mourning process. It certainly wouldn’t be easier finding out that my partner had committed suicide but going through life without some answers regarding her death would plague my mind to the point of insanity.
FTR, my insurance policy, which I just took out last September, pays out in full for suicide after the policy has been in effect for two years.
You only get the one chance to know. I’d take it, even if I didn’t like some of the possible answers. Sure, you might learn something unpleasant, but the alternative means a lifetime of doubt and regret. Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t.
I’d have to know as well. But I can understand the survivor’s in-the-moment decision to not know, too. Grief can make you do weird things.
(Bolding added by me)
My mom did that when my dad died, though suicide wasn’t a concern in this case. He died in his sleep in his early 50s, and was overall in good health, aside from a “leaky” heart valve diagnosed only a few years prior, caused by a childhood bout of rheumatic fever and missed in medical examinations for decades. It was considered to be a minor problem and was being maintained with medication. So when he died, she wanted to be certain there wasn’t anything that could have been genetically passed to their two children. From my best recollection and interpretation of the autopsy report, it was related to the heart damage and some odd arrhythmia that his heart couldn’t recover from - anyway, it wasn’t genetic, and so she felt she could rest easier knowing that my sister and I weren’t at risk.
I would definitely want to know. I think if I didn’t, I would always assume the worst. Better to know and have a shot at the answer being not-suicide.
I’d absolutely want to know. But I have no problem with Kate’s decision.
This is the most typical scenario.
Putting Kate to one side for now…
If Fred was my dad, I’d want to know why he died.
If Fred was my son, I’d want to know why he died.
If Fred was my brother, I’d want to know why he died.
If Fred was my friend, I’d want to know why he died.
Holy crap, that could happen to me! I’d have to know…I would need to know whether it was his body or mind that failed him. If it were suicide, I’m pretty sure I’d be living with the “What if I hadn’t fought with him that morning–he might still be alive.”
I can understand Kate’s decision, but I’d have to know.
My wife has told me that she doesn’t want an autopsy done on her. I’ll respect her wishes, even if it means that I may not know what killed her. She doesn’t have a will yet, and I guess the decision is up to me.
I wonder if Fred had mentioned something similiar to Kate. Either that or she knows what killed him and doesn’t need a doctor to tell her.