I’ve Heard of Lying on a Resume, But an Obituary?
They lied about who he was until the very end
My family has more baggage than Miami International Airport during spring break. It’s hard to keep straight who is talking to who and what everyone is arguing about so I do my best to go about my life pretending I am a long lost Kardashian.
They seem like a nice normal bunch.
To give you an idea of just how crazy my family is, a sibling once asked me how I ended up being so much more normal than everyone else.
I spend my mornings playing dead in the front yard to appease my toddler and am currently planning a fall wedding between a feral cat and my dog. I once hid in an armoire for almost two hours, waiting for my husband to open it so I could scare him. It would have been time well spent if I didn’t trip and break my toe when he opened the door.
Yet, I’m the most “normal” of the bunch.
A few days ago, I was informed that my Uncle “Ron” (my dad’s sister’s husband, ya follow?) had passed away. The news saddened me, despite being totally estranged from him, my aunt, and my cousins.
My Aunt “Mary” and her now-deceased husband were always obsessed with appearances. They had the biggest house in the fanciest neighborhood, expensive sports cars, a massive boat — the whole shebang. And they looked down on us for not living that same lifestyle.
They made snide comments to my mom about how my sister was going to end up pregnant at thirteen because we lived in a “bad neighborhood.” We didn’t live in a bad neighborhood and she didn’t end up pregnant but that’s how they viewed us icky middle-class folk.
Only it was all a total lie.
Despite the constantly degrading comments, we spent a lot of time with my aunt, uncle, and cousins growing up — at their house of course because our neighborhood had “too many dogs.”
Aunt Mary confided in my mom one day that they were so broke they would have lost their home if it weren’t for the help of wealthy relatives. Uncle Ron’s brother was supporting their extravagant lifestyle while he lived modestly in a home with his mom. Yet, Uncle Ron still made sure to post pictures online of the Rolex he bought his son for Christmas.
To keep up with the Jones (or maybe the Kardashians) in their high society neighborhood, they told everyone my uncle was a doctor. This was a lie. He confessed to failing the medical boards six times and then quit trying many years ago. I’m not sure what he did for money besides take it from family but he sure as shit wasn’t a doctor.
After years of referring to himself as a doctor, yet never working as one, a relative asked his private investigator buddy to get to the bottom of the mystery. Was he or wasn’t he a damn doctor?!
As suspected, Uncle Ron was never a doctor.
But image was everything to them and they needed that status symbol.
I tried to track down my cousin to offer my condolences after her dad died even though I hadn’t spoken to her in about ten years. Our differences aside, I can’t imagine the pain she’s in right now. I don’t have social media and I failed to find her number so I didn’t end up reaching out.
I was stressing majorly about this until I heard through the drama-filled family grapevine that Aunt Mary was telling her siblings the wrong time and location of the funeral services because she didn’t want any of us there.
It must be hard having people around who know all about your lies.
This morning, I stumbled upon my uncle’s obituary and almost choked on my Cheerios.
Next to Uncle Ron’s name on the obituary were two letters. MD. Even in death, the appearance had to be kept up. As I continued reading, I was shocked to see that not only did the obituary list him as a doctor but it said he was a surgeon. No further details. No specifics on what type of surgeon he was or where he worked.
Must have been more of a side hustle surgeon. It just said “dedicated surgeon” and moved on as if it were a hobby sprinkled in with other tidbits.
It never crossed my mind that anyone would blatantly lie about something as huge as being a surgeon in an obituary. It seems ethically wrong to me. Is that why my aunt doesn’t want us at the services? How would she handle any questions about this mysterious medical career?
Of course, my heart goes out to my aunt and cousins right now. I’m not a monster. Just not bougie enough to fit into their life, apparently. I haven’t had a chance to tell them I’m a Kardashian yet.
An obituary should celebrate a person’s greatest achievements and highlight their life. Instead, it was used to further spread lies to save face for the family left behind. I find this appalling.
My uncle was sick for a long time, meaning he may have had some input into what was in his farewell blurb. I wonder if he approved it or if he would have wanted the facade to end.
What do you think? Would you lie on an obituary?