The Secrets Death Keeps

I recently attended a virtual Silent Book Club event. The Silent Book Club of Death hosted by the Death Project Manager. I am an introvert, so the opportunity to interact with like minded death positive folks from the comfort of my own home was exactly my speed of social. Since I am not currently reading any death themed books, I decided to pick up my copy of Pet Sematary by Stephen King. It's one I've read a few times so I knew I could open it up to a random page and fall into the story.

For those unfamiliar, what you need to know for this post is that the story revolves around an ancient burial ground, only instead of the corpses staying buried and decomposing, they are instead reanimated to walk amongst the living again. The memorable quote that sums it all up: “Sometimes dead is better.” Since there are far too many interesting death themes in this story to tackle in one post, today I’m focusing on the theme of secrets.

The random page I opened the book to was 119 (a number any Constant Reader will recognize as significant). At this point in the story, Jud and Louis are just back from burying the family cat, Church, in the ancient burial ground. Jud knows what happens next, and since this is Louis’s first experience, he cautions Louis to keep the death and burial a secret from the rest of the family while they are out of town. No need to spoil the trip, he reasons. And sure enough later that day, undead Church comes sauntering back to the house.

The emphasis on the secret keeping got me thinking ahead to another scene. Jud is telling Louis the story of Timmy Baterman, the only human Jud knows of to be buried in that mystical burial ground (though certainly not the only human ever he makes sure to point out). Timmy Baterman went off to war and came back in a coffin. A few days after the funeral he is seen walking around town. When Jud and a few other townsmen go to confront the situation, undead Timmy retaliates by letting loose all the secrets. He spills the beans that Jud has been unfaithful in his marriage, that one guy’s wife is cheating on him, and the other guy's family only loves him for the money they mistakenly think he has. Undead Timmy knows all the dirty secrets and isn’t afraid to share them with anyone willing to listen.

I’ve always loved this scene for a couple of reasons. One is that it speaks to the deeper, darker fears that death brings up for me. The fear that slithers and thumps in the dark corners of my heart, hidden under the obvious fears of the unknown, pain, being alone, etc, is the fear of loss of privacy and secrets revealed. When I die, someone is going to have to go through my stuff, and possibly even my body. And they will be making judgments (conscious or unconscious) about what they find. I realize how silly of a fear this is. I will be dead. It will no longer matter to me what others think or assume about my life. And I’m not harboring any life changing secrets that will hurt or negatively affect the lives of the people I love and care about after I die. But of course fear is not logical, nor does recognizing the logic make the fear disappear. That would be too easy.

Upon closer reflection, I see that this fear is especially deep for me because it is intertwined with my childhood trauma and all the years spent enduring regular emotional and psychological abuse. One of the ways I survived, and even occasionally took the power back, was through lies and secrecy. I would lie sometimes for protection, and sometimes just for the hell of it because I knew it would spark a fight. I also became keenly aware of the masks we all wear to hide our secret selves, and got very skilled at fronting my own masks.

As I’ve grown into an adult, the foundation of lies and secrecy has shifted into a need and respect for privacy. There are many things I only share with certain people, and then there are things I don’t share with anyone at all. Not because it is a true secret or something that will hurt someone I love, but just because I don’t want to have to explain it or defend it to anyone. And so I can’t help but wonder, how will I be judged for the things I’ve kept private when I’m no longer around to give context? I want to keep my privacy, even in death.

The other reason I love this scene has nothing to do with fear at all. It has to do with the desire to know the secret information. None of us knows what happens when we die, but we can hope and dream and fantasize. In my post death fantasy, I get to learn all the secrets of life, the universe, and everything (hopefully the answer is more than just 42). I want to understand why confounding things happen and where science has it so wrong even when we think it’s so right. Is it all just chaos out there or is there some overarching order or meaning to our lives and the universe around us? Are there gods and goddesses, or do the planets exert influence over our earthly affairs? Is there life on other planets or are the aliens already among us? I assume I will never know the answers to such existential questions, but I can hope.