When I’m Dead, Will You Remember Me?

 

How often were you told not to speak ill of the dead? Or, only remember the good?

There’s a problem with that. If you only remember the good, you’re choosing to remember a lopsided, partial version of a person.

When I was 19, a good friend’s mother died. They lived across the street from me and I’d known Mrs. D since I was 5, and she scared me. I don’t recall her ever smiling. I recall her harsh voice, yelling at her daughter when we played, and a lot of complaining and negativity.

But when she died, apparently, so did everything that was true about her. At her funeral, they described a loving woman who never said an unkind word about anyone. I asked another friend, “Who are they talking about?” It certainly wasn’t Mrs. D. I decided right then that when it’s my turn to die, I want people to tell the truth about me.

Here’s some of what I know about myself. I am:

  • Loving and not afraid to show it
  • Generous and giving
  • Warm and cold
  • Funny and serious
  • Kind and, well, let’s say, not so kind. I’ve never intentionally done anything to hurt anyone, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t stepped on a few feelings and hearts
  • Loyal and give my friends a lot of leeway when I love them. But I’m also able to let them go in a flash if they’re disloyal, cruel, or show me they’re not who I thought they were
  • I don’t play games and I never say anything I don’t mean
  • Someone who will tell you what I think and will also withhold what I’m thinking. The worst thing for you in a relationship with me is when I go silent
  • A brave coward
  • Willing to try new things and also avoid trying new things
  • Someone who hates flying and yet has traveled all over the world
  • A friendly, shy introvert. I prefer being at home and, yet, have a great time when I go out
  • A person who you can rely on. If I tell you I’m going to do something, I do it
  • A world class procrastinator, but if you want something done, I’m your gal
  • Spiritual but not religious
  • Infinitely curious. I’ll never stop learning
  • Naturally thin. Okay, that’s a lie. What was it I said about my honesty?
  • A fatherless daughter since I was 12 who turned my grief and fears into a lifelong career in death, dying, and bereavement
  • Confident enough to start a nonprofit for grieving children, write a book, yet also filled with enough self-doubt to keep me from reaching my full potential
  • A lady who also swears like a truck driver and makes sounds that should never be released from a genteel person. We can thank my mother for the latter.

So, when I die, tell the truth about me. Tell people what you loved about me, but also tell them about my odd quirks or things that you found challenging. And please, tell people about the real person you knew and why you loved me because of and despite of.

If remembered at all, I want it to be for who I was, not some fantasy version of a me who never existed, not in my imagination or in real life.

I went first—now please tell me about you. How shall I remember you?