The last time I ever spoke to my uncle before he died, he and I were alone for some reason and he told me, very intently, that he knew I was a shit person, and I might have everyone else fooled, but he knew.
Joke's on him, because I've never made any secret of what kind of a shit person I am. Might have done to consider if I was the kind of shit person who would tell the story at his funeral a month later, laughing all the while, as if it was just the funniest anecdote.