Well Remembered

Typically at a wake, friends and relatives gather to pay their respects. Wakes are an homage to a life. People often share poignant stories about the deceased. The coffin-ed person is revered—elevated— fondly remembered.

But not at this wake. This wake was atypical. I listened to the cousins and friends speak unflatteringly of the woman lying stone cold dead in the front of the room. Each relative shared their favorite evil story—upping each other by saying “yeah, well, if you think that was bad, let me tell you what she did to me/us…”

It was awful—to the point of embarrassment.

The most disturbing thing of all was that I highly suspected that all these stories were true—the deceased was just not a very nice person and would forever be remembered as such.

This woman was not a “loved one” as much as she was an “unloved one.”

And a week or two ago while I was standing in the lobby of the country club I saw a much older woman with whom I had had some very tedious and irritating encounters in the past. I had always found her to be odious—self-important, rude, with bad auburn haircolor.

 I could not think of a single pleasant thing to say about her.

Yet it wasn’t the fact that she was so repugnant that blew me away when I saw her—it was the fact that I had thought she was already dead. I could have sworn that the flag had been held at half-staff at the club several years prior in her memory.

But there she was—living and breathing and seemingly quite healthy.

I felt disappointment that this woman still walked the earth—I also felt awful about having that thought-- to the point of embarrassment.

And it made me think back to that wake with the underloved person in the coffin. I thought too about that scene in the Wizard of Oz when all that remained of the wicked witch was the black hat and cloak resting on the ground—and the munchkins singing ding dong the witch is dead.

And you have to wonder if wicked witches ever see it coming—being besmirched instead of being beloved post mortem. You have to wonder if they might have changed their behavior had they known. Because it is better to be not remembered at all, than to be remembered with scornful song.