Speak now, not at the funeral

It is a painful contradiction. The person who desperately needed a telephone call receives silence. The colleague who needed encouragement receives no response. The struggling friend who reached out for assistance is met with unanswered messages. Yet, when death comes, the same person who could not find the time to make a simple call suddenly becomes a prominent voice at the funeral, speaking passionately about the deceased's character, contribution and importance.

Over the past two years, I have witnessed situations that have left me deeply troubled. In one case, a colleague fell on extremely difficult times because of a prolonged illness. Appeals for assistance were made to the offices of individuals who, by virtue of their positions, influence and professed values, might reasonably have been expected to respond with compassion.

Among those approached were a prominent church leader and a high-ranking State official. Yet the pleas appeared to fall on deaf ears. No telephone call came. No meaningful intervention followed. No reassuring message was received.

What makes the situation even more difficult to comprehend is that one of those very individuals later played a leading role in the funeral tributes. Only recently, another colleague transitioned from this life. During the period when assistance, companionship and encouragement were most needed, calls reportedly went unanswered and messages received little or no response. Yet after death, expressions of sorrow and admiration began flowing freely.

This raises an uncomfortable but necessary question: What value are beautiful words when they arrive too late to comfort the person who needed them? The biblical admonition in 1 John 3:18 is particularly relevant: “Dear children, let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth.” The message is simple but profound. Genuine love cannot be measured solely by what we say. It must also be demonstrated by what we do.

A person's greatest need for compassion does not necessarily come at the graveside. It often comes months or years earlier, when illness has weakened the body, when financial hardship has created anxiety, when loneliness has become overwhelming, or when circumstances have stripped away hope.

That is when a telephone call matters. That is when a visit matters. That is when a helping hand matters. That is when a simple “How are you doing?” can mean more than the most elaborate tribute delivered before hundreds of mourners. True friendship is tested during adversity. Genuine leadership is demonstrated when people are vulnerable. And authentic compassion does not wait for a funeral programme to provide an opportunity for public expression.

To those who remain silent while people struggle but become eloquent after their death, I offer these words:

Speak to me now, while breath is in my chest,
Give me your hand before I go to rest.
Your kindest words are wasted on the stone,
Show me compassion while I feel alone.

I cannot hear the praises that you weep,
When I am locked away in endless sleep.
No written scroll can cure a broken heart,
Give me your comfort ere my soul depart.

The calls ignored, the texts you cast aside,
Cannot be mended once my hands are tied.
If you are absent while I fight the storm,
Do not show up when I am cold and lorn.

So speak with me today, while I can hear,
Or hold your peace beside my final bier.
If you are silent while I strive to live,
Remain forever mute—you’ve nought to give.

These words are not intended to diminish the importance of funerals or the legitimate need to mourn, remember and celebrate the lives of those who have departed. Funerals can provide comfort, closure and an opportunity for communities to honour a life. But funerals should never become stages for performances of affection that were absent during life.

For church leaders, public officials, community leaders, friends and associates, the challenge is particularly important. Positions of influence carry moral expectations. People listen to what leaders say, but they also observe what leaders do. When the suffering cry for help, leadership should not disappear behind closed doors. When a member of the community is struggling, compassion should not be postponed until death provides a convenient occasion for public recognition.

Perhaps we need to rethink how we honour people. Instead of waiting to deliver magnificent tributes at their funerals, let us make the phone call today. Let us visit today. Let us offer encouragement today. Let us extend practical assistance today.

Let us speak while they can hear. Let us love while they can feel. Let us help while our hands can still reach them.  Because once the coffin is lowered and the final hymn has been sung, the opportunity to demonstrate compassion to that person is gone forever. Do not wait until death makes someone important to you. Recognise their worth, while they are still alive.

Editor's Note: Garfield Angus is a veteran Jamaican journalist and author. Send feedback to editorial@oldharbournews.com