One must not speak ill of the dead.
That missive has been drilled into most of us for so long, we have no clue where it came from, and who made this decision.
Look at today’s obituary page. In fact, look at any obituary page, in any publication, on any given day.
This is the place no one sits in judgment of our bad choices, our worst days, our proof that we were human, and therefore flawed. Everyone who has died, you would think, was a wonderful human being, much beloved and sorely missed. I think all of us would like to be remembered that way.
But here’s a dirty little secret — death does not automatically elevate us to sainthood.
This week’s sudden, tragic death of Kobe Bryant, his 13-year-old daughter, Gianna, and seven other less famous, but equally important, people, put the spotlight on what is and isn’t appropriate conversation about someone who just died.
“Too soon,” people will often say after a tasteless and morbid joke follows a tragic death. And most times, it is always too soon.
(For the record, any joke about teacher/astronaut Christa McAuliffe’s death in 1986 when the space shuttle Challenger blew up is still too soon for me. I remember turning on the television that morning, seeing the aftermath and falling to my knees in grief. I had absolutely no connection to her, or her family and friends. But I’ve always loved and revered teachers, who do God’s work, along with other selfless people, like nurses.)
But before these people’s remains could even be recovered, a Washington Post reporter tweeted out a link to a story referencing the rape allegation from Bryant’s past, almost 17 years ago. She was put on paid leave, an admonishment for the “lack of judgment” when wounds were still fresh, the pain too deep, the shockwaves still resounding.
But if truth be told, that allegation was one of the things that flashed through my mind too when I first saw the reports of his death. It was just one of those stories you remember about people — the good, the bad, and the ugly.
Bryant was a phenomenal athlete, great enough to make an impact right out of high school, one of only a handful of NBA players — themselves a handful of the world’s elite — who could claim that distinction. He was young at the time — and married. He claimed the encounter was consensual, and the young woman involved eventually declined to press charges (maybe the character assassination that followed her accusation had something to do with it), and it was eventually settled out of court — and out of sight.
But was it right to dredge up that case so soon after his death? I honestly don’t know. Are we defined by the worst thing we’ve ever done, and should it follow us to the grave? What if it hurt someone else or maybe multiple people?
Many of us are shaken by the realization that money, youth, family, friends, influence, will not save us from death.
Bryant retired from the game in 2016. Imagine having enough money to retire in your 30s and being able to devote the rest of your life to raising your kids, working to make your community better?
That’s the fantasy many of us would like to embrace.
If we’re honest, we all have our “lottery fantasies.”
Mine change from day to day, depending on the size of the jackpot and that week’s work anxiety. Would a million be enough for me to quit my job? I don’t know, after all a million isn’t what it used to be.
And I’m always worrying about how much month will be left at the end of my money. Even though intellectually I know retirement is a few short years down the road, emotionally I’m tied to that steady paycheck that tells me I’m actually accomplishing something.
And Kobe Bryant still had a lot left to accomplish, as a parent, husband, coach, friend, and in all the other roles we all play in our less famous, but equally important lives. So did the other eight people in that aircraft. And the other less famous and equally important people left families who were also widowed and orphaned. Let’s remember, in our rush to mourn the celebrity we recognize, the grief felt by the families of those we don’t recognize.
There are tears all over the world for Kobe Bryant. The grief is real for many who knew him, loved him, liked him, or just admired his athletic prowess. He wasn’t a saint. He made mistakes, as we all have, he hurt people, as we all have, and he had a chance to try and redeem himself, as we all do.
Should we speak ill of the dead? Maybe not. But let’s not pretend they were more (or less) than what we all are, deeply flawed human beings, needing love, hope, protection, and kindness. Some of us are better known than others. None of us are getting out of here alive. But if we do this life thing right, when we do finally leave this world, moving on to whatever is next, the worst thing we’ve ever done won’t be one of the first things remembered.
We will have left the world a little better than we found it — and for that we will be sorely missed.
