At his funeral, the pastor was talking about how my friend wasn’t the most regular attender at church, but he was valued by many. The pastor then gave a whole bunch of examples, and summed it up with something like “And though it may not have been obvious, he was a real saint.”
Later on you could go up to the microphone and say a little something about him. One of his old buddies said “Well - I’ve heard Frank called a lot of things - but ‘saint’ was never one of them!”
At my dad’s funeral, when the pastor asked if anyone wanted to share memories of my dad, one by one, people piped up with stories of how he came when called and killed whatever critter was “scaring” them.
I was mortified.
Of all the innumerable good things he did for people, his generosity, his hard work helping them, killing “scary” critters was what they said.
Like his whole life was summed up as an animal assassin.
It was surrealistic.