When Obituaries Lie

For people like Fr. Herbert, an obituary only scratches the surface on what was a full life. For others, an obituary whitewashes unpleasant realities and in some cases, lies.

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 had 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.

What Happened, America?

Sometimes the relationships we have with our relatives can be a bit puzzling. People you hardly see and don't really know share this connection with you that automatically allows them to enter your life even if you don't have much in common. There are many relatives I never see outside of weddings and funerals despite promises to get together sometime just for the sake of hanging out. Further complicating matters is the different family dynamic between my mother's relatives and my father's relatives.

My mom's side of the family is best described as passive-aggressive and filled with dysfunction. Gatherings with these people usually involves having dinner at a restaurant somewhere and pretending we all get along even though there are some deep-seated resentments lying just below the surface. All it takes is one wrong remark for a decades old trauma to bubble over.

With my dad's side of the family, what you see is what you get and that amounts to some pretty boisterous people who embrace life's pleasures even when it becomes detrimental. Getting together with them usually involves a big party at someone's house with lots of food, music, alcohol and cigarettes.

During the summer of 2024, my mother and I received some shocking news: One of my cousins who was only in her 50s died of a drug overdose. We had no idea she was a user but as I would find out later, some of my relatives were very aware of this fact and thought it was only a matter of time before something like this happened. We had last seen my cousin two years ago and before that, I couldn't tell you when we got together since it was so long ago.

At the funeral, my mother and I experienced some culture shock as many mourners felt it was appropriate to dress in jeans, short pants and t-shirts. I sat behind my deceased cousin's estranged husband and wound up staring at the pit bull tattoo scrawled on the back of his neck. I wondered just what kind of crowd she had fallen in with. Later, I found out the “friends” she did drugs with left her to die when they saw her in distress. The reverend's eulogy did not shy away from my cousin's drug habit and sadly, speaking at funerals like this was a specialty of his that was in demand. He acknowledged the people in the crowd who had “pre-mourned” my cousin and said the two questions most often asked in situations like these began with “What if...?” and “If only...?” Relatives said my cousin had rejected any offers for help and even denied there was a problem.

My cousin's father held the reception at his house and insisted on having everyone back a few days later for their family's annual Independence Day celebration. It was a summertime tradition that he wanted to keep going despite the recent tragedy. My mother and I never went to these parties but decided to go this time around just to show our support.

When we arrived, almost everyone was overweight and overindulging including cousins who were years younger than me. A few of these relatives didn't even have wives. They had long-term girlfriends who they lived with and had children with. So much for courtship first, then marriage, then sex and then children. Such a spectacle made me ask myself, “What happened, America?”

These people were supposedly the more politically conservative members of the family but they seemed to lack some very traditional Christian values like moderation and appropriateness. Did lust and gluttony get omitted from the list of seven deadly sins? I was torn between not judging them and being upset with their devil-may-care attitudes. In the Bible, Jesus embraced tax collectors, adulterers, prostitutes and other sinners BUT he told them to sin no more. That's the other side of the coin feel-good religions usually ignore.

Our country has lost its sense of shame. At one time, the fear of societal disapproval actually kept a good number of people from embracing such hedonistic tendencies. Now we have to accept everything no matter how inappropriate it may seem. The Church's pro-life morals are even twisted around to undermine its views on chastity with relatives being happy that my cousin's girlfriend kept her baby while looking the other way when it came to abstinence and marriage. Once again, society was rewarding people with loose morals while those who saved themselves for marriage were condemned to a life of loneliness. I wondered, “If these people weren't related to me, would I have anything to do with them?”

What happened to my relatives seems indicative of American culture these days. Society promotes excess and people lack the willpower and common sense to resist. It's not enough to have a hamburger. Now you have to put bacon, an egg, onion rings and BBQ sauce on it. So many Americans today are overweight, unhealthy, in debt...and most importantly UNHAPPY. My cousin who passed away was certainly missing something in her life.

A sermon from years ago once described us as having God-sized holes in our souls. Sometimes we tried filling that hole with drugs and sometimes we tried filling it with money. Sometimes we tried filling it with sex and sometimes we tried filling it with food. Unfortunately, no amount of gluttony can remove such an emptiness because what we really need in our lives is God's love and that's hard to find when we're drowning in excess.