DEATH BECOMES HER

The part of being an obituary writer I like least is handling family disputes. Dealing with them is like having a root canal without Novocain, only far less pleasant. Thankfully they don’t come up that often, but when they do, they tend to follow a sadly familiar pattern: The mother/spouse/brother-in-law didn’t get along with the spouse/parents/other in-laws while the person was alive and eventually the feud evolves into an all-out war over the content of the obituary. Disputed content runs the gamut from who gets listed as a survivor to where and when the service will be held.

            Last Thursday, just in time for the Christmas holidays, I had to settle my latest family dispute. On Wednesday, an older gentleman came in to place an obituary for his brother, a longtime resident of the area who had moved to the western part of the state about five years ago. The obituary was innocuous enough, listing his background, occupation, survivors and a few nice sentiments about the deceased’s love of animals. There was no reason to believe anything was amiss until the day the obituary ran when late in the evening I received a tearful call from a woman claiming to be the widow of the deceased. As it turns out, the man’s brother left one small but very significant detail out of the obituary: the deceased was married for more than 30 years and his wife took care of him during a long and difficult battle with cancer. According to the man’s widow, a feud broke out recently between her and her husband’s brother and the brother turned around and deliberately left her out of the obituary out of spite. Before it was all over, I heard from other relatives of the couple, all distressed that the widow was intentionally left out and looking to me to provide a remedy for her situation. I was able to offer a solution that seemed to satisfy all involved, but in some cases families aren’t happy regardless of the compromise proposed.

            After more than six years of experience in handling these types of situations, you’d think it would get easier, but it doesn’t. It sounds so heartless to tell grieving family members who are in the midst of a dispute, “Sorry, but we can’t get involved. You’re going to need to work things out with the funeral home and/or other family members,” but it is the truth. We simply can’t get involved because that would mean we’re taking sides and that’s not our job.

            No matter how diplomatic I try to be when handling these disputes, the sad fact is if the family can’t set aside their differences long enough to get through the funeral, someone is still going to walk away with hurt feelings regardless of how the situation is resolved on the obituary front.

When I accepted the job of obituary writer, I initially thought I would stay one or two years while I built up my post-college work history. While it can be a high pressure, high stress job at times (but then again, what job doesn’t have its share of pressure or stress?), I have quite a fondness for what I do and have had work experiences I would not have had if I were in any other line of work.

            That being said, however, from time to time I still experience a slight twinge of self-consciousness about my work and it occurs when I am going out on a date. For one thing, my schedule keeps me at work nights and weekends, limiting my opportunities to go out and meet people. When I do have a date, it is usually during the middle of the week, like Wednesday or Thursday. So any potential suitors have to contend with an unusually demanding work schedule.

            While scheduling issues can be worked out, it’s the conversation aspect I’m most concerned about. For example, several years ago I briefly dated a NASA meteorologist. He was a very nice guy, if a little on the shy side, but while he was discussing weather patterns and projects he was working on, I was filling him in on changes the paper was making to the obituary page. Halfway through our first date the thought occurred to me that he must think I’m incredibly morbid for discussing our high volume of obituaries over drinks and appetizers. It was one of the few times I ever wondered if I’d be more fun on a date if I’d chosen a different occupation.

            Last summer, I broke down and decided to try dating a guy who worked at a funeral home. I resisted for a long time because I was afraid the relationship would be a little too clichéd: an obituary writer dating a funeral home employee. During dinner, I didn’t feel quite as self-conscious because we quite a lot in common work wise. Despite the pleasant nature of the date, I’m sure we made the other patrons of the restaurant uneasy with our in-depth and at times graphic discussions of the unsavory practices of some notorious funeral homes given that it was seniors’ night at a seafood restaurant.

            Now I’m single again and hopeful that the new year will usher in a new relationship. Of course, this time out I think I’m going to ease into any in-depth discussion of my work. While I like what I do, it is amazing how one’s job can shape their sense of identity.

By Mandy Malone

My work as an obituary writer is quite unpredictable. People handle grief in different ways and I have to be prepared for anything when someone comes to our lobby to place an obituary.

Today, however, I was brought face to face with one of the strangest situations I have ever faced when a man came in today to place an obituary for his dying mother.

Back in January 2005 a mother and son came to our lobby at deadline to place an obituary for the woman’s husband. This seems normal enough, but the man’s mother was suffering from dementia and began wandering around the newsroom, rearranging pictures and walking into offices. The son, who had a few problems of his own, did not want his mother to know that her husband had died, so he told his mother that they were at the Shipyard and I was a secretary.

Forty-five minutes and several phone calls to a relative he disliked later, we had an obituary he was happy with and this became one of the more colorful episodes in my obituary writing career.

Well, this afternoon, the man came back. His mother is dying and he thought he had left her obituary with us. He had not and became quite belligerent and stormed off I told him that while we still had his father’s obituary photo, he had not left us with anything other than that.

While I wait to see how the next chapter in this situation plays out, I thought I would ask readers of the blog about their strange and unusual encounters with people and how they handled them. Certainly I am not the only one who has these encounters, although some days it seems like I attract them like a magnet.

Various news people and others wailing like street corner hawkers. Good stuff, man. Good stuff.