The Things We Save for a Funeral

Someone close to me had a friend from high school die a couple weeks ago. They hadn't talked in a while, but he was still one of those people from her old crew who mattered. One of those people you assume will always be around.

Over the next few days, her social media filled up with stories about him. People talked about how dependable he was, how funny he was, how he always showed up when someone needed him. Everybody seemed to have a story that pointed to the same conclusion: this guy truly mattered to a lot of people.

At one point she looked at me and asked, "Why does it take somebody dying for everyone to say all this?"

I didn't have a great answer, but the question stuck with me.

I don't think people suddenly invent these feelings after someone dies. I think most of us carry around genuinely good thoughts about the people in our lives. We appreciate them, respect them, maybe even love them. We just don't tell them.

Part of it is because it can feel awkward. There isn't really a normal Tuesday where you text someone, "Hey, I just wanted you to know you matter to me," without them wondering if something's wrong or you're about to ask for a favor. So we put it off. We assume there will always be another opportunity.

Then sometimes there isn't.

All those things we meant to say end up being shared at a funeral or written in a Facebook post where the person they're really meant for will never read them. The words are still meaningful, but they become comfort for everyone else instead of encouragement for the one person who needed to hear them.

I found myself hoping this guy knew how many people thought that highly of him while he was still here. I hope enough of them actually told him.

It also made me wonder how many people are walking through life believing they don't really matter to anyone. Meanwhile, there are people carrying around genuine appreciation for them that's never been spoken out loud.

I'm not pretending I've figured this out. I know how easy it is to think, I'll text them later. Sometimes later happens. Sometimes it gets buried under work, errands, notifications, and the hundred other things that compete for our attention. Sometimes, if I'm being honest, I need a reminder in Microsoft To Do just to follow through on something I actually care about.

Lately I've been trying to ignore that little voice that says, "Don't say it. It'll be weird."

My father-in-law, who's been steady as all get out for years and has never once asked for credit. The guy from a campout I haven't talked to in a while who's crossed my mind more than I would've expected. The coworker who quietly made a rough week easier without making a big deal out of it.

Men, especially, aren't great at this. We'll spend five minutes telling another guy how awesome his truck is, admiring his smoker, or asking about his new grill setup. But tell another man you're proud of him, that you appreciate him, or that you're glad he's in your life, and suddenly everybody finds their phone fascinating.

It's still awkward. I'm going to try and say it anyway.

If someone came to mind while you were reading this, don't overthink it. Send the text. Make the call. You don't need to write a speech or come up with the perfect words. Sometimes all it takes is, "Hey, I don't say this enough, but I'm glad you're around."

That won't feel nearly as important as the message someone writes after you're gone.

But it might mean everything while you're still here.