When my mother was growing up, her youngest brother was spoiled rotten by the matriarch of the family. As “the baby” Uncle Jay always seemed to get his way but his three middle siblings including my mom weren't so lucky. During Uncle Jay's teen years, he would snoop around in my mother's bedroom and help himself to the stash of money she earned from a job at the local five and dime store. He never owned up to the thefts but wherever she hid the money, he'd always find it. My uncle's spoiled status lessened when his mother died unexpectedly at the age of 47. The entire family really needed therapy to cope with such a devastating loss but that was unheard of back in those days.
Uncle Jay served in the army, married a woman from Germany and raised a family but while on assignment in Central America, he cheated on his wife. After a messy divorce, my uncle ultimately married the other woman, settled in Florida and had a daughter. Years later, his second wife cheated on him and their marriage fell apart. Some would call that karma but my uncle adopted a “woe is me” attitude.
With nowhere to go, a relative found Uncle Jay inexpensive veterans housing back in Massachusetts. Despite his tendency to act like a know-it-all and badmouth just about everyone, my mother and I invited him to our weekly lunches out for many years. His sourpuss demeanor usually brought down the mood, however.
My Uncle Jay also had the annoying habit of dropping by the house unannounced. When we insisted he call us beforehand, he followed through at first but then did whatever he wanted to. One time, my mom and I had been picked up by a friend so when Uncle Jay saw our car in the driveway, he assumed we were home. He accused us of not answering the door and claimed he heard a voice from inside yell, “Be quiet!” This caused a rift between us and we didn't speak to each other for a while. Such feuds were common on my mother's side of the family.
After Uncle Jay caused a minor car accident, his daughter from Florida invited him to stay with her family. They wrote a list of house rules but after a few years, he refused to follow them and moved back to Massachusetts. Luckily for him, his old apartment was available again.
Tired of all the drama and insults, my mother and I decided to keep our distance from Uncle Jay but I did bump into him at a store. The first thing he said to me was, “Boy, do you look old.” We were cordial but I warned him not to drop by the house unannounced because my mother said she would call the police. Before saying our goodbyes, he suggested chatting again at my workplace but it never happened. Instead, Uncle Jay got into another argument with my mother over the phone and refused to have anything to do with us. Guess I was guilty by association.
In early 2026, my cousin Jenny let us know that my uncle was in hospice so we called his daughter from Florida to see if we could visit him. She gave us his room number but when my mom and I arrived at the facility, we were banned from seeing him. A second call to his daughter revealed Uncle Jay was still holding a grudge and she wanted to honor his wishes. She promised to call us back when his funeral arrangements were finalized but that opened yet another can of worms.
The family plot was full and my mother had long ago been given instructions from her dad not to let anyone else be buried there. Of course, Uncle Jay wanted to rest with his mother so thousands of dollars in extra fees were paid to the Church and the grave was opened. His daughter refused to inform us about the funeral so we learned about it after the fact. Not only did my cousin Jenny attend, but also one of Uncle Jay's daughters from Germany who I hadn't seen in over 40 years. My mom and I wondered if everyone there took all the bad things my uncle said about us as the Gospel truth.
We were especially hurt none of our relatives bothered to defend us. At the very least, my cousin Jenny should have told us Uncle Jay's daughter from Germany was in town so we could have seen her. My mother was so upset, she told Jenny not to bother talking to her ever again. Even from beyond the grave, my Uncle Jay was spreading discord.
Despite all this, his obituary read like a saint's. He loved God and his family deeply. His quiet and creative ways reflected his thoughtful nature. His faith was a steady presence and he lived a life of service, perseverance, purpose and devotion. The Gospel of Matthew was also quoted: “Well done, good and faithful servant...”
The obituary mentioned his “rarely spoken about” tours in Vietnam but using that phrase made it sound like he was on the front lines and suffered from PTSD. In reality, he served in the motor pool and never saw combat. Even though my mother is the last living sibling of the family, she was excluded from the “survived by” list.
It's one thing to gloss over the more inconvenient aspects of a person's life when writing an obituary, but as Christians, don't we have a duty to reflect a semblance of the truth? My Uncle Jay always wanted things his way no matter the cost and as a result, he hurt an awful lot of people.
* All names have been changed to protect the innocent and not-so-innocent.
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