Twenty-something years ago, I was told from a grief counselor, “Just because someone dies, it doesn’t make them a saint.” Those words have come to me throughout the years. The first time I heard them was after an unexpected death. I was at odds with someone, and I had decided the next day when I saw them, I would pull them aside for a long overdue talk. We needed to clear the air on a few things.
The night I made that decision; was the night they died.
The next day I felt as if I had walked into a brick wall. I had rounded up my courage and I was ready for the talk. But I wasn’t ready for them to not be there. The grief counselor had me talk to a chair as if I was talking to that person. It helped. Although, it would have been better if the person was in the chair.
The person who passed, was a good person.
A few years ago, another person passed who, in my opinion, was not a good person. He had tormented me in high school and 4-H. I had not given him much thought after he graduated—he was older—good riddance.
I became acquaintances with a woman who joined a club I was a member of. As she became more comfortable, she started sharing bits and pieces of her life. She was married to a monster who abused her physically, mentally, and sexually. Even her children wanted her to leave. But she was afraid.
A few months later, she stopped attending club meetings. As it turned out, her husband had died—and he was my tormentor from high school. I did not know they were the same person.
It was hard to see all the accolades pouring in for him. He was well-known in the community, and apparently, well-loved by some. Those people didn’t know—or perhaps didn’t want to acknowledge—the monster he was.
When I die, there will be people out there who don’t see me in a favorable light. And that is okay. I am human and I have not always been a nice person. I have my flaws and definitely have my regrets. Lord knows I will not be a saint!
I don’t think it is necessarily our past that defines us. It is definitely a path we once traveled, but hopefully as we live and learn, we pick different paths to be better people. If the monster had chosen a different path and became a better person, perhaps his death would have had a different effect on me. Instead, he left behind a path of destruction.
I think this is my way to make amends to those I have harmed. We don’t always know—or remember—those we have hurt, but they remember. They have had to find ways to maneuver through the debris we have thrown in their paths.
Life isn’t always fun or easy, however, we always have the choice to be better, do better, love better, live better, and in the end, die better.
Hugs.