I find that I struggle with funerals. It is not the concept of someone having died or been killed. People die all the time. It is more the idea that, at someone’s funeral, only the socially acceptable things can be spoken. This does not leave any room for authenticity in grief. I have always prefered the authentic. Stuff that is inauthentic has annoyed me from a very early age. People use inauthentic approaches in life in order to get what they want and to skim over accountability for their own actions. Funerals are the one place that this will consistently be the strategy that people utilize.
Case in point: My father’s funeral. This is a man who treated the family horribly. This is a man who also cheated on my mother. This is a man whose unchecked rage left bruises all over my body when I was too young and too small to fight back. This is the man who would disown a child for standing up to him or for following their own path instead of trudging down a path he thought was best for them. Yet, at his funeral, the things that were said about him left one thinking that the man was headed for sainthood. It was so incongruent that my neice approached me at the tea following the ceremony and asked me whose funeral we had just attended? I could not tell her, as I was, myself, certain we were at the wrong funeral.
Her mother, my oldest sister, and I were his favorite targets. She was disowned by the rest of the family, so when we were supposed to line up to enter the chapel, oldest to youngest, she was placed behind me, the youngest. Although I was enraged by that, I turned to her and said, “Don’t worry. I’ve got ya.” Then I asked her if she had viewed the body. She said she had. I opened my jacket to display a ceremonial dagger that I had brought for the occasion, just in case he was not actually dead. My brother-in-law laughed. Then she opened her purse, revealing a machette that she had brought for the same reason. We had a very difficult time composing ourselves for the walk through the chapel to our seats.
All through the funeral as the eulogy was being spoken regarding his impending sainthood, I kept wanting to pipe up with, “And he was a total dick.” or “And he made everyone else’s life miserable.’ or even, “And he beat the crap out of me on a regular basis.” But these are things that would have created a LOT of upset in the crowd. So I did not bother. Instead, when people would come up to me during the internment or the tea and express their condolences for my loss, I would simply admit that it was not that much of a loss for me. They would be a bit shocked. So then I would just say, “You had the privilege of not having to live with the man.” They would then nod and say they understaood. Some of them even mentioned that they were aware of some of his “antics.” Antics. That is what they call child abuse these days? Hmm. Yet none of them stepped up.
That was the most immediately relatable funeral. I have noticed the same patterns at every funeral I have ever attended. So far there have been no exceptions to the pattern. Wonderful things are said, and the truths that could be expressed are washed over or ignored completely. The closest thing to what I would prefer for a funeral happened at my oldest sister’s funeral. People gathered at her home and visited and told stories…REAL stories…about their relationships with my sister. My nieces and nephew and myself were in the kitchen laughing our faces off with each other. Not just about our experiences with her, but about many other every day things. We were getting so loud that some of the folks in the living room were beginning to wonder if we were smoking something. THAT is how I would prefer my own funeral to be. But, who am I to say that this will be the case? After all…I won’t be there. Or will I? Mwahahaha!
Truth is an interesting thing. People say that truth is a matter of perspective. Sure. But when your perspective is constantly being gas lit, it really makes you wonder what those who are in denial are trying so hard to hide? What is their agenda? Why is truth so threatening to their reality? I think if truth were so fickle that it changes depending upon who you ask, then it really is not truth, it is simply opinion. That is why I prefer REAL talk. Superficiality simply sucks. REAL talk actually digs into the uncomfortable things that most often get washed over. And REAL talk has a tendancy to heal. It is not “speaking ill of the dead.” It is telling the truth about their life. People need to get that distinction. It is not like at the moment of death people are automatically nominated for sainthood. That is something that humans tend to think. It has NOTHING to do with Spirit. So, tell your truths. It also helps those around you to understand where you are coming from in your life experiences. It helps them to understand your strategies for living life as best you can. I have also found that it tends to inspire others to speak their truth and to have increasing compassion for others who do as well.