The Nuckelavee Of Reflections On The Dead

One of the greatest conundrums of being my age is that, as friends and family pass into whatever netherworld awaits, I am torn between honestly reflecting and articulating our relationship (if it was poor) or just remaining silent and letting the hypocrisy of death prevail. Coming from a background where the catch phrase was always “if you can’t say something good about someone then say nothing at all”, I have buried my true feelings many times – even reflected kindly (and dishonestly) on the ‘dear departed’. Part of this position, I think, is the belief in basic fairness; the fact that the dead cannot defend themselves and why didn’t I say these things when they could. There is definitely that. Honesty becomes “a cheap shot”. The reason(s) perhaps are the feelings of others, keeping peace within the family or relationship circle or just a sense that there is nothing to be gained, for anyone.

Somehow, however, the positive reasons for silence have never satisfied my inner need for justice; have left me with the feeling that acquaintance A or in-law C have gotten away Scot-free, living a nasty, selfish existence that made my life more difficult and with no reckoning (at least none that I believe in). Is this an equally unflattering self-absorption. Probably. But at seventy five I’ve really stopped caring about what people think of me – if good, then why am I worrying and if ill, I don’t have either the time nor energy to do anything about it. It’s all very circular and morally ambiguous.

I’ve come to a compromise of sorts. If asked what I think, I will answer with an honest opinion but with no embellishment or unnecessary detail. “Just the facts, Ma’am”. If not asked, then “hello silence my old friend”. It’s an imperfect arrangement but the best that I can devise.  It allows me to live with myself and, hopefully, with those around me. But I have also made a promise to myself; that I will be as kind as possible for the remainder of my life but also as honest. If I keep to the oath, then I will probably not be asked to eulogize someone whose time on earth intersected uncomfortably with mine.