I was saying really nice things about him at the funeral when his youngest son took me aside and told me that I wasn't right about his dad. Said that his dad beat them terribly and thinks that he drove his mom to kill himself. I then told him about my mom...then we just stared at each other and started to cry...we lived right next door and didn't know about what each other was going through!
Getnbtr,
This is a very powerful scene to me.
It is amazing how empowering it is to speak the truth. I actually think most people are glad when someone tells them the truth. It's an invitation to know someone, or just to acknowledge something, on a deeper level than one normally does with social chit-chat. Even briefly, it is a gift of authenticity. People have a hunger for that, and meeting it even casually is a good thing.
I've only done it in very modified ways, with people who knew my mother. Those who knew her socially and superficially, but who approach me with "gush" about her, I reply gently:
"You know, it's often very different inside a family than it is from the outside. I loved my mother, but the truth is, great age does
not confer sainthood." Just with a wry but serious look, and it's been surprising how many of them would stop the "gush" and say, empathically, I know that's true (or something to that effect). They might walk away looking bemused, but I didn't feel guilty. Every time I would say that (I only did it with some folks)...I felt stronger in dignity.
I think the only thing that enables people to adjust their views of a narcissist, should the adult child feel the urge to make a comment that all was not what it appeared to be...is when the child can make their remark without hysteria or bitterness. Only when I could say it gently, did it feel like a successful interaction.
Otherwise, most of the time I let it go, or respond with something that's also true (but without setting them straight): "My mother was a really remarkable woman. She had an amazing life force, didn't she? And lived such a long time."
She was remarkable. She lived through the depression, educated herself through sheer grit, cared about education, etc. There was a lot to admire. Just...as her daughter, I have the psychological toothmarks on my skull.
Yet, again, I was lucky, as there was no overt abuse from my Nmom. I have had it a lot easier than so many here.
Thanks, Getnbtr, for sharing the true, honest, empowering, soul-refreshing moment you shared with your neighbor's child.
Hugs
Hops