Recently I was introduced to the play She Kills Monsters, a tale about a young woman who on the eve of her high school graduation makes a simple wish . . . that her life was less boring. In a horrific twist of Fate, her wish is granted when every member of her immediate family is killed in a car accident not long after she utters those words.
Talk about overwhelming guilt . . .
Fast forward through college and Agnes, now a teacher at the high school from which she graduated, is preparing to move from the home she shared with her family . . . meaning she has to sort through and pack up the earthly possessions of her little sister Tilly. (Sounds vaguely familiar . . .)
As she filters through the papers and the possessions of someone she barely knew, she comes across a notebook filled with directions that to her are meaningless . . . but to a young man who is a Dungeon Master in the role-playing game Dungeons and Dragons, they are her guide to another world. This mysterious notebook contains a D&D game created by her geeky little sister—who she’s about to learn was a well-known and tremendously respected player. So, in an effort to connect with Tilly . . . to better understand who she was . . . Agnes decides to play the game.
Through the magic of fantasy and role-playing, Agnes and her sister (aka Tillius the Paladin) embark on a quest with the other members of Tilly’s party. And as they battle the monsters Tilly drew from her own life, Agnes begins to understand the sister she never really knew. As the quest progresses, Agnes comes to an anguished realization that she shares with her friend, “I didn't know her, Vera. That breaks my heart. I remember her as a baby, I remember her as this little toddler I loved picking up and holding, but I don't remember her as a teen at all. I'll never get the chance to remember her as an adult.”
So why am I telling you about Agnes and Tilly and a game many of us have never heard of and will most assuredly never play? Because it all began with Agnes finding something she didn’t understand in Tilly’s belongings. And that’s a scene that plays out on a daily basis in homes and storage units across the world.
I dare say, no matter who you are, when you begin going through another person’s life after their death, you’ll find things you don’t understand—like maybe a wad of hair in an unlabeled envelope. Sometimes those discoveries are wrapped in mysterious innocence. Perhaps even a little bit of joy. They may generate questions or reflections and nothing more. But often they can lead to some earth-shattering, heart-breaking revelation that will turn your world upside down. And when that happens, there’s no one to ask for an explanation—you’re left to your own imagination to create what you cannot have . . . answers.
I’ve been lucky. So far, I haven’t found anything that made me question who my parents were. Oh, there’ve been a few surprises, but nothing of the earth-shattering, heart-breaking variety. And that’s why I’m writing this public service announcement for those who will someday shuffle off this mortal coil (as in all of us . . .). Everyone has moments that were not their finest, that probably led to some embarrassment and possibly some humiliation. But there are some of us who might also have a few metaphorical skeletons hiding in our closets. If you truly love the people who will survive your departure, may I suggest you have that conversation with them now so there are no ugly surprises when you’re gone. And if you’re unwilling or unable to do that, then destroy any evidence you’re keeping and bury those secrets so deeply they will never see the light of day. And do it now. Believe me, the people who are left to wander through your life after you’re gone will be eternally grateful. And the best part is, they won’t even know it.
About the author: Lisa Shackelford Thomas is a fourth-generation member of a family that’s been in funeral service since 1926. She has been employed at Shackelford Funeral Directors in Savannah, Tennessee for over 40 years and currently serves as the manager there. Any opinions expressed here are hers and hers alone and may or may not reflect the opinions of other Shackelford family members or staff.
