I never liked that guy.
Say it with irony, say it with deadly seriousness, but do it. This outpouring of love shit makes my skin crawl. We are all of us flawed, we have all done bad things, stupid things, venal things, mean things. That too is part of us. To sweep all that away seems to me offensive, a lie.
Orson Scott Card, who is a horrible human being who generally writes pretty bad books, came up with one Really Good Idea. His concept is of the Speaker for the Dead, a person who comes when you die, and finds out the truth of your life through research, not unlike a detective. And then at the memorial, this person speaks the truth. The good, the bad, the secrets, the lies, the beauty, the kindness. All of it.
This strikes me as far more decent a way to honor the dead than some sugary blathered half-truths.
"This was Andrew, this is his story. Remember him."
Today, though, I will hew to social convention and hold my tongue.