Unifying the New Generation of Military Widows

I got his autopsy report today.  I had a feeling it was coming, even though I didn’t expect it for a few more months.  His death was so complicated, and I knew the investigation was ongoing.  I had even received a call with another monthly update that there was still no timeline for them to complete the investigation.  So, as I loaded my three-year-old and my baby in the car, a FedEx guy walked up to my garage and handed me the clipboard for my signature.  What else could it be?  I signed, and then looked at the sender on the envelope.  It was from Washington D.C.  What else could it be?  I was on my way to the elementary school for my older kids’ Valentine’s Day parties.  I tore it open anyway.  Sure enough, inside was a sealed envelope strongly suggesting that I do not open it alone and warning me of its graphic contents.  I set the envelope inside and drove away.  Now what?  Do I open it?  My mind had been swirling for months wondering why he died.  No one seemed to have an answer to my questions.  They kept saying: when the autopsy is released maybe we will have some answers for you.

My in-laws had already let me know they had no interest in the whys. They felt like it would just re-open their healing wounds, or worse, cast my husband’s sacrifice in a poor light.  They felt like they had dealt with the events surrounding his death.  Why re-live them?  Or know every gruesome detail?

I called my mom.  She wanted to be here for me when I read it.  Or even read it for me, and just tell me the major stuff, and leave out all the graphics.  She is a nurse, and she would understand all the medical jargon.

I feel like it’s personal though.  It’s a very personal part of my husband, and he wouldn’t want me to share it with the world.  So, when I got back from the school, I stared at the envelope.  Then, I set it up on a high shelf in the back of my closet.  Maybe I’m not ready.  Will I ever be?  I want so badly to understand why he died.  But, I am scared too.  What if I find out something that I regret knowing?  What if the images those words paint in my mind forever scar my memory of him?  I can’t stand not knowing every detail.  And, yet, the envelope remains unopened.  If I knew the answers to all the whys, then I would have to keep it secret from everyone in my life.  Or maybe I wouldn’t.  Maybe it would just bring up more questions.  It feels like a weight, or a burden trying to make yet another decision that I should never have to make at such a young age.