Who are they...really? (Plus some news.)

I don't usually write a follow-up blog from comments that arise, but this week I'm making an exception.

A friend wrote about how on attending a funeral, it struck them how someone who died can be seen in so many different lights. You can read her comments on Facebook. I had recently thought the same thing. Memories and opinions of the same person can be very different.

Some illustrations.

1. I had a wonderful uncle called Uncle Basil. A single man. We saw him about three times a year, always on family occasions with his sister, my mother.

Around late 80s, he became unwell. My sister lived the nearest and took charge, visiting doctors, opticians etc: but she found out that no-one knew who Basil was. They knew him as Fred. Indeed, that was his first name, but because it was his father's name, he was known as Basil in the family. One day, my exasperated sister said, "It's no good Basil, we're going to have to call you Fred." " Good", he responded, with feeling, "I've always hated the name Basil!"

A couple of years later, he sadly died. Two of us spoke at his very well attended funeral. An old friend from the same town spoke about the popular man called Fred. There was a hint of the fact that he was careful with his money.

I stood up and spoke about the wonderful brother and uncle, Basil, who amongst other things was very generous and a world traveller.

Afterwards, I felt as if the family were in a wedding line, as one after another wanted to shake our hands, say what a wonderful man Fred had been, but how the man Basil had been a revelation to them.

2. A friend from my teenage years died last year. He used to speak about his frustration with his mother. I had thought of her as the sort of mother, who was everything my mother wasn't. She was at the funeral and I thanked her for the kindness shown me as a regular visitor in the home at that time. This was because the relationship between and my mother was difficult, to say the least.
But my friend had thought my mother was wonderful, because she wasn't like his mother.

I was visiting my aunt in a Californian retirement community ten years ago. She asked me to go to the Sunday service with her in a local community hall. I was intrigued. The hall was packed and the average age was around 75-80. The speaker was a Mr De'Ath and the sermon was on the reading that week, which was about dying. This is all quite true.

I wondered what on earth he was going to say. I've remembered it. It was about how we are going to be remembered at our funerals. What will people say? Was there anything that we might want to change about ourselves? Interesting.

How will we be be remembered?

Better than this lady I hope.

A friend was visiting on his return from the funeral of the wife of a titled businessman. He was still bemused by what he had heard. The woman was known as a particularly difficult woman. The funeral was well attended by the businessman's friends and two sons. The vicar spoke about Lady S and uttered these words, " Lady S was a woman who held strong opinions and um, er...........she had lovely hair!"

I was at a talk yesterday, given by eight women, as part of International Women's week. They were studying Human Rights in York. They came from Sudan, Honduras, Liberia, Afghanistan, Zimbabwe, Lesotho, Iran and Somali. These were brave women, who, at home, lived with fear and violence, as daily companions. As a friend said, " They've jolted me out of my comfort."

I came away with a number of nuggets, but for this blog, the woman from Iran said, "Don't look for roles and labels. Just say your name and hello."

So often we jump to conclusions and get it wrong.

I have spent the week setting up social networking sites for the book I'm publishing in Autumn 2013. But you won't see my name on the book, website and other places. Rita writes blogs, but not books.

I hadn't planned this for today, but now I reached the end of the blog, perhaps I'll take this opportunity to introduce someone I've been calling my shy, twin sister.

Here goes...please welcome a new writer, Alison R Russell. 

©Ritaleaman2013