Six feet of dirt does not a hero make

 

Let's call him Harry.

In my late teens, a local lad, of similar age, was killed in an accident. It was a horrific accident and a young life was taken. The crushing of his youthful potential was plain for all to see. The entire town was gripped in a bout of sadness as its inhabitants and blow-ins alike celebrated his life and mourned his passing.

I did not attend the funeral. Why? Because I saw no reason to go. For me, attending a funeral is a show of respect. It is your way of saying goodbye to the person. A way of saying thank you for the positivity you brought to the world and to me. Harry, make no mistake about it, was an utter scumbag. He sold drugs. He was constantly fighting. Harry had a child he didn’t care to see and refused to support. He had a long list of people in this small town that he had hurt and whose lives were worse off for having crossed paths with him. Harry was one of those people that contributes a total sum of nothing to society. This is not conjecture or hearsay. I speak of Harry from experience.

I refused to be one of the thousands of people in this town who were lying, not only to themselves but to their ”god” whose house they desecrated with falsehood. Every single person who attended the funeral that day lied to the child he left behind. The majority of these people did not know him and if they did they would not have paid tribute to his time if they acted in honesty. Harry’s life was made a mockery of and his bereaving family was made to think that this was a popular guy, popular for the actions he performed while alive.

I received a substantial amount of abuse for refusing to attend his funeral. People argued that it was a tragedy that such a young life was lost, that I knew him and should have shown my respects. True, it is tragic. Tragic that he was truly honoured with such a great family and ruined his life the way he did. True, I knew him. He made my life worse than it needed to be in our teenage years and did a lot more damage to others and for that, there can be no respect.

The people of this fragile town were duped into thinking that this loss of life was particularly tragic. It was not.

People opt to see the good in others once they have passed on, as if looking at their deeds through sepia tinted glasses. The funeral for them is the handshake at the end of some sporting endeavour. Well done. You gave it your all. Good game. There can be no camaraderie in ignoring the folly of others posthumously. 

Perhaps seeing nothing but the good in someone is a virtue but it is one I definitely do not have and for that I am grateful. It was be a massive dishonour to Harry, his family and the child he left behind to pretend he made the world a better place because he didn’t.

He wasted the chance he got at this. He was given so much and threw it away. Maybe there is a sadness in that. Maybe that deserves pity. He was dealt a great hand and spent his short time on this earth crushing those around him.

Six feet of dirt does not a hero make.

pochemuchka99 

Never accept the world with which you are presented