We just passed the anniversary of the death of the person who made my life a living hell for 18 years. Through decades of neglect, he passed away due to lung and liver cancer. There was no way I could say that it couldn't have happened to a nicer person because no one should die that way.
At the time, I had no intension of being involved with the funeral. Really, I should have known better and stayed away. When the eulogy came up no one had any real ideas, then someone in the family, people who (still) haven’t bothered to speak to me for years remembered that I was a so-called writer. All of a sudden, I found myself the center of (unwanted) attention. The woman who on occasion claimed to be my mother (she isn’t really) through begging, flattery and the like got me to say yes.
The night before the funeral, I sat in front of my computer trying to decide what to write about this man. What should I have written? How about the time when I was eight years old, thrilled to be invited to a birthday party, and ran into the living room with the news. How during the commercial break, he picked me off the ground by my neck choking me and screaming how I dared to disturb his game. Or even better, when at eleven years old I did something at school (I don’t even remember what) that made my teacher call home. That night he slipped into my bedroom and beat me into unconsciousness because he was embarrassed. Or how about the number of times I lay on the floor because he had a bad day or the number of times the person who called herself my mother walked around with a black eye because she 'ran into a wall'.
I guessed no one wanted to hear about it, no one wanted to hear about it while he was alive. So I wrote about his life, his idiosyncrasies (he had a few) and his love of sports above all. My muse screamed and cried the entire time as I typed the words into my computer. I felt dirty, depressed. All of the despair I thought I had suppressed (I’m quite the professional) came back. Finally it was finished and I printed it out and like some dreaded book report turned it in. Thankfully, no one expected, or wanted me to speak. So I sat in the back of the church in the comfort of the shadows. Others praised him for giving such a good eulogy although he tried to tell people I wrote it. I didn’t care. I was numb. How can someone planted six feet in the ground, still have the ability to hurt you was beyond my understanding. The contusions and yes broken bones have long been healed but I guess those other scars will still be with me for a long while.
-Elsbeth
Comments
Your dilemma
I've been asked by my brothers to think of an epitaph for a plaque they want to put on my father's grave. My father physically and mentally abused all of his children and sexually abused both me and my sister (just we two, as far as I know). Your bravery in the face of expectations that were entirely and horrifically unreasonable give me strength. Neither brother knows about the sexual abuse, believing only my mother's brother to be the sole abuser. I'm going to think long and hard about what they've asked, but I believe your example gives me hope that I'll know what to say when the time comes. Thank you for your courage. Andrea
Love, Andrea Lena
If you don't want to hurt
Just don't do it. You said that the woman who asked you isn't even your mother. I suppose if we show too much pride in our abilities to do things we can get dragged into what we don't want to do- because of said pride. Maybe that's the true meaning of Pride goes before a fall. Next time save yourself the grief say no and walk away.
Don't feel too bad.
You did the right thing.
Everyone deserves a propper defence in court, and everyone deserves a proper eulogy in church. Even if they are made up of shite.
In a case like this
I would have written two eulogies. One that expressed my true feelings and read it out loud in the privacy of my home and then the second one that you gave them.
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Better Still
Hand over both eulogies, telling the recipient which one is the truth and which one is papering over the cracks. It's up to them what they do then.
I think I would have just said no. There's a lot to be said for 'forgive and forget' but you didn't need all this added pressure. Once the... person... is in the ground you can forget him. Asking you to write something that is patently untrue just prolongs the agony.
Penny
You could have written
something ambiguous, about how our lives may be seen in total honesty when before our gods, so that those in the know would understand what was being implied.
One of the best lines I heard was from an ex methodist minister who does humanist ceremonies, who described one of our cycling club as, "Better at fathering children than being a father." No one took offence at the line because it gave a sense of authenticity to the whole thing, none of us are perfect, though some are more imperfect than others.
I used the same chap to do my aunt's funeral, only I did the eulogy.
Angharad.
Angharad
I couldn't do it...
Perhaps I could be a "Speaker for the Dead", but nothing less brutally truthful would do.
You are a better woman than I.
For me
No, just no.
My family is Chinese and they taught me very well how rigidly they hold to there beliefs, so guess what, I gave it back.
I have absolutely no motivation any more to be in contact. My oldest brother claims he has changed but I always get the impression he was always disappointed in me somehow.
I did my duty and that is it. I can't imagine writing something for somebody who has abused me.
Kim
You have my respect.
My tormentor, perpetrator, abuser died around 83 and when my stepbrother told me, I said, "good, he can't hurt anyone else". I went on to hate him with all my soul for another 25 years after that, knowing that if I was really going to practice my own religion, I had to forgive him. I was not up to it, though I tried very hard, and I carried the guilt for it. That hate eventually ruined my own life.
It has been only in the last year that my new life has made it posible to forgive him to lay in peace in his own grave.
Gwendolyn
I know what you mean
My wifes dad was that kind of man and now at 58 she is still dealing with the abuse he inflicted on her and her mom (funny how her siblings did get it as bad). From the grave he did 1 last hurt by leaving millions to the 2nd wife that was the whore under the desk and then married him after mom died (nothing to any 1 of the kid). The good die young mom at 51 and the bad live forever he died at 84
I know how someone can hurt from the dead
Love to you Elsbeth
P.S. love your stories
Very brave
Eulogies are for the living and to comfort them, not to do anything for the dead. Since the living also hurt you, it was a brave thing you did. Just saying no, and not doing it, might have made things morer difficult for you, because thos around you would have made your life terrible (perhaps again).
You know in your heart and brain that you were lying. But there is nothing wrong with a lie, if it keeps peace at the time it is said.
RAMI
RAMI
you're a better person than I am
if someone asked me to speak praise of my stepfather, I dont know if I could do it.