What If the One Who Died was a Jerk?
For some, referring to the deceased as a "loved one" is far from being honest.
In the grief support groups I lead at a hospice agency for over a decade, I’d frequently refer to the person who died as “your beloved” or “your loved one.”
To a grieving spouse, I might say: How long were you and your beloved married?
To a grieving son, I might say: What are some of the best memories of your loved one?
When I’d been working in bereavement for a few years, my boss attended a conference for hospice professionals. Upon her return, she posed a question from one of the workshop presenters: what if the person being grieved was not loved? Should everyone be called a “loved one” or “beloved?”
When people die, wounds we never imagined rend our hearts. Eventually, with time and tending to our grief, most will cherish their memories like family heirlooms. Indeed, those memories likely become more valuable than any inherited object.
Nonetheless, some recollections and relationships are tainted. Calling the person a jerk, as I did in the title, would be far too polite.
How about the verbally abusive parent or the always-angry grandparent? Or the child who lied to siblings, deceived parents, and wrecked everyone’s life as he or she ruined their own life? The parent, grandparent or sibling may have been the one that taught you how to ride a bike or loaned you money for your first house, but they also curdled the infrequent good memories with destructive actions. You do love them, but you also:
A. Can’t let go of unsettled feelings…
B. Are glad they are dead and gone…
C. Harbor anger towards them…
D. All of the above, more of the above
Is it possible to grieve someone you mostly struggled with, when a wheelbarrow of negative experiences is dumped alongside a thimbleful of positive memories? I suspect—maybe for a parent that gave you birth or a child that once held such promise—there could be authentic feelings of grief over the loss of what-could-have-been. But how much are the threads of long-ago hope torn by the accumulation of anguish?
Because no one knows the details of a grieving person’s history, should I have called those who died a family member instead of beloved? (I think that’s what the workshop presenter suggested.)
Mostly I agree with the family member phrase, but it stirs uneasy reactions. I naïvely and optimistically want everyone to be revered as beloved, though I suspect some should never have that description linked to their name and memory. In my decades of ministry, I met people that appeared wonderful while they smiled from the pew or chatted in the church potluck line. And yet later, I would learn details about the old and fresh scars caused by the person’s casual infidelity, random rages, selfish decisions, and much worse. I don’t know why certain people are awful, hypocritical, or manipulative . . . but they are. I’m not much of an expert on the faithful facts of heaven, but there are those that unleash hell on earth for their family and friends.
Additionally, it can be hard to talk about a lovely loved one who also caused feelings of guilt, regret or anger. Everyone is a mixed bag, and the time of grief should include honesty.
That supportive, caring spouse now dead from lung cancer coulda-shoulda quit smoking. They didn’t. During the most intense grief, that can cause a surviving spouse a sense of profound loss, along with bouts of frustration. Why didn’t they take better care of themselves? How can the surviving spouse not be angry! I sought to help this person live the rest of their lives creating the treasure of good memories, rather than hoarding a storehouse of repressed hurt. Please, in the hard work of grief, let all the feelings come out.
Though I wish it weren’t so, some will grieve and referring to the one who died as “your beloved” may be more hypocritical than helpful. I believe words matter as we go about our lives today, and as we recollect yesterday. How we honestly name our memories influences our future.
What do you think?
My book, A Companion for the Hospice Journey, is available at Amazon.
Photo by Natalie Breeze on Unsplash
I refer to any who have passed now as humans. Your human. There are so many pronouns and so many difficult relationships that "your human" seems to cover everything and is accepted by everyone 😊
I often found calling the deceased by their name was helpful. Then there was no guessing if they were beloved or less than that. Their name is specific to that person who will not be anything other than a name, forever more.
I think this was impressed upon me after attending a close friend’s sister’s funeral at a cemetery chapel. The officiant had not known the woman and probably hadn’t interviewed the family very long before the service. I just remember clearly that the officiant only said the woman’s name once, when reading the cover of the program at the beginning. While he did list by name the many relatives the woman was leaving behind, throughout the service as he commented on her domestic skills, clubs and charities she had enjoyed. He just used generic words such as She, his wife, as a volunteer… beloved grandmother.. almost never her name. Denise .! Not a hard name to pronounce, not a foreign kind of name, just the name she was given as her own. Curious.