When I'm confronted with a newly deceased person, one of the questions I ask the family is, "This is the first time I've met ‘so-and-so.’ What's his/her story?" When asked at the right time, it tends to help loved ones during the initial stages of the grieving process. After all, as a Roman statesman Marcus Tullius Cicero once said, “The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living.”

However, I can't tell you how many deceased people I've encountered who should be next in line for the Medal of Honor or sainthood. Yes, they may be wearing a police GPS monitor, have visible track marks on their arms, or have bruising from a recent violent event. I've even seen scars from previous bullet wounds, stabbings, as well as violent gang tattoos. The person may have died from a homicide or a drug-induced overdose. And, no, he or she hadn’t darkened the doorstep of a house of worship for a long time, if ever. But according to family and friends, the deceased was the sweetest, nicest, most helpful person one could ever meet.

Having been in public safety as a firefighter and a police officer many times, my internal red flags went up as I talked with families. Sadly, I knew these remaining loved ones couldn’t or didn’t want to share with me the ugly, painful truth. In other words, they were lying to me. Now, as a chaplain, when I ask the “tell me their story” question, you would think the deceased led a picture-perfect life. This new and improved picture is painted with visions of sainthood, even though the evidence tells me something quite different.

The question is, do we have a selective memory when a person dies? Do we forget who these people were in their totality? I believe in a redeemed life, but when that is not part of their narrative, I feel like I'm the recipient of beautiful lies.

As a chaplain, I want to trust people and find positive traits and good memories to celebrate. But the reality is there are people who have lived a pretty bad life. Now, I want to believe these people were truly who family and friends say they were. But, by unfolding evidence and the body language of the person telling me the story, I can tell this isn't the truth, or at least the whole truth.

From <https://www.nationalgeographic.com/magazine/2017/06/lying-hoax-false-fibs-science/>

In Yudhijit Bhattacharjee's June 2017 National Geographic article, he states the number one reason people lie is to cover up a personal transgression of failing. From my experience, this is the majority of what I witness. People want to paint a positive picture of the deceased, especially to the chaplain, and not share any failings. Oddly enough, I have noticed this is more emphasized in the southern Bible Belt culture than from my home culture in the Pacific Northwest.

One question remains: is it wrong to paint a different picture of the deceased? Under normal circumstances, I would say no. If someone remembers positive things during initial grief, it might help a loved one not stay stuck in their grief. Instead of anger, which is a valuable and natural part of the grieving process, maybe at this time, it is only sometimes profitable. In this case, as Cicero once said, to every survivor goes the right to tell the story of the deceased. If it is unbalanced for a brief time, maybe that’s okay.

Next week, I will expand upon the topic of lies and how we, as chaplains, must deal with the ones that are more dangerous and require us to act.