Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria in Action: How RSD Helped Me Defend Families of Dead Kids

A businessman accused parents of trying to make money off their children's deaths

Who would begrudge a family financial aid to honor their deceased child? (ChatGPT assist)

I walked through a cemetery on Memorial Day weekend. Some people might think it’s a place of sadness. I see it as fields of love.

When I took a random turn and found the section for all the children’s graves. Here, this space was dubbed “Garden of Innocence.” I saw spaces where families try to keep a deceased child part of their active lives.

Years ago, I faced this issue. Not as a parent, but a newspaper reporter.

I was assigned to go see a funeral home director. All I was told is that this man wanted to address the County Board of Supervisors.

He’s heading up an effort to build a monument or memorial? I guessed.

Not quite. And before he’d tell me, this guy wanted to beat his chest like Tarzan.

I had to hear how he was pals with the paper’s publisher. “You were lucky to get this assignment. I think this belongs on the front page.”

Then, he launched his conspiracy theory. Mister Undertaker claimed the county was getting scammed. His circumstantial evidence flew. These families would come in fancy cars. They dressed well. Why couldn’t they afford their own kid’s funeral? The county should do a better job investigating people who apply for financial aid.

I was a literal listener, understanding every word, even though I was undiagnosed neurodivergent. But I was detecting a second message. Boulder-sized hints were being dropped that Mister U didn’t like getting the modest fee from the county. The man wanted MORE. But he seemed afraid that insisting families can have only a minimum for their child, then such a generic funeral could expose his greed.

Years later, AuDHD’s hyperfocus and pattern recognition were keys to dealing with the man who believed in armies of “Welfare Queens.”

If the county board ended all fiscal support for bereaved families, only upper-class families with unlimited funds would be his whole clientele.

I went to see a man who was a former city attorney. Could he explain what really was going on?

“Poor people and deceased children will never speak at public meetings,” he said. “Someone needs to speak for them.” I pleaded for his aid.

But was he enough? I went to see a man who wanted to open his own funeral home. At the time, he was an assistant for another business.

“We will never charge a family anything to bury their child,” he vowed. When I asked him if he would be a voice for the voiceless at the meeting, he agreed, too.

Both men kept their word when I asked for help. They addressed the meeting. Kindness ruled. Funding continued.

For me, I kept my word to MYSELF. I refused to be a ventriloquism dummy who’d write hateful words that came out of someone else’s mouth. I quit and never looked back.

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TOM OWENS writes a weekly essay for “Oops! AuDHD Humor.” Please, enjoy a free subscription. I’m hoping to move up in the world, from “Tom WHO?” to “That One Guy.”