I think each reason for someone’s loss comes with it a specific set of pains. There are different broad categories of loss, that range from violent death to a slow-moving illness to an accident, and everything in between. I can only speak with any authority on the kind I know: a completely mysterious death.
My sister went to bed on Friday, May 19 with a full weekend of plans, including work, attending a friend’s wedding, a short road trip, an air show, and quality time with her partner.
She never woke up on Saturday, May 20.
From the beginning, it’s been an agonizing experience for the rest of us. The realities at the scene of her death don’t match what the on-scene medical examiner and detective recorded; they did not accurately record the sequence of events, which still frustrates me—what if this sways the final cause of death determination? Additionally, we still don’t have the results of her autopsy three months later. It may be another three before we do. And the few details we do have make me believe we will never get an actual answer.
The authorities treated us like naive family and acted as though we were definitely going to find opioids in her blood, meaning she overdosed. The physical examination yielded a symptom common in, according to the doctor who conducted the autopsy, only drownings or overdoses. She didn’t do drugs—not even over-the-counter painkillers, if she could help it—and her toxicology came back clean. Note to all the detectives and medical examiners out there: we are not all in denial. Some of us are right about our loved ones not being the cause of their untimely deaths, and it is painful as hell when you dismiss us as unreasonable.
Despite knowing the toxicology results, we are still waiting for the report. For the answer. They don’t share preliminary findings from the autopsy without blood and tissue samples. The tissue samples were collected and now sit somewhere, along with our shattered hearts, in bureaucratic purgatory. In less than a week, we will hold a celebration of life for my sister, but hanging over us is the storm cloud of the unknown. Honestly, we will be lucky to know the result by the end of the calendar year. And the result may be an official finding as useful as a shrug emoji.
In the absence of an answer, we all build our silent, mental mythologies about what happened. The narratives some of us construct are, in my opinion, a hindrance to the process of healing. Even more frustrating, the other parts of the bureaucracy don’t give leeway. Her life insurance provider is threatening to deny the claim because we haven’t supplied the final death certificate. We want to, but we don’t have it still. The mental, emotional, and financial wellbeing of her partner relies, in part, on this answer we don’t have. And we’re being treated as the cause of our own ills.
We just want to know. Is that so much to ask?
Unmoored Sister 