It was among the oldest of jokes, a Vaudeville standard, and yet, he was having none of it. I’d just complained to my eye doctor, “Doc, it hurts when I do this,” as I pulled my eyelid up like I was putting in a contact lens.
“Then don’t do that,” he replied, deadpan.
I burst out laughing, but he remained stone-faced. Then I remembered: The man had no sense of humor whatsoever.
That’s what we all said, my family, from my grandfather on down, who went to that doctor. And for a family whose gatherings are akin to roasts of one or more unlucky recipients, we just couldn’t fathom going through life with no sense of humor.
This year, we need a sense of humor more than ever.
We buried my uncle on Friday. Well, we had a funeral ceremony at the very same church and a reception at the very same place where we had celebrated the life of my Aunt Nancy, my late uncle’s wife, just six months ago.
This is the family I grew up next door to in a compound of sorts that included my grandparents, my cousins, their parents, my folks, my brother and me. The only ones left living there now are my parents, and the sorrow is palpable. And yet, we continue to laugh. Not just because we like to, but because we have to.
Case in point — This morning, my mother left me the following phone message: “I hit 300 days on the Wii Fit today. My average age…21.” And then she hung up. I chuckled. In the wake of too much misery, my mom is entertaining herself by scoring half her daughter’s age on a video game.
“Life goes on” may be a cliche, but life indeed goes on, whether we’re laughing or not, so we might as well amuse ourselves. We might as well revel in the funny or else the misery will win out. And so, I let the funny stuff bathe over me whenever I can.
Yesterday, I was coaching a soccer game, when I overheard a conversation between two middle school-aged players on the sidelines:
“You know what they say, big feet…,” Max said.
“Huh?” Isaac replied.
“You know what they say, big feet…,” he reiterated.
“Big heart,” I finished as I walked by.
“Big feet…, ” he said, “big shoes.”
“That was a joke with a silly ending,” Isaac said.
Ah, but at least it ended with a laugh.
Jen ~ My compassion to you and my congratulations to you. Your website is funalicious and poignant. I’m a happy Grandmother of a toddler, reliving so many memories. Can’t resist suggesting you hit my website and read my blog on:
WHINING DUET IN MIRROR STOPS TANTRUM
You’ll enjoy my funship in grandparenting. Thanks to you for your wonderful contribution to parenting!
Today is the anniversary of my father’s death. So I posted funny memories of him on my blog. It seems like the right thing to do…and I know he is laughing along. Making funny (or what we think are funny) remarks is how our family deals with the difficult times, too. And through the jokes, we tackle the uncomfortable subjects of sickness, death, and funeral wishes.
Thank you for your contributions to the cause!
You are so right, it is so important to laugh. In fact, it is medically proven that laughing improves your health!
What I really love is when out of nowhere without warning something will happen that will cause a full on gut shaking, gasping for breath, eyes blinded by tears, face red laughing fit complete with sporadic snorting sounds.
I really believe too that our loved ones that have passed on would not want us to morn their loss but to remember the good times you had together.
I’m so sorry to hear about your loss. Your children are very blessed to have a mom (and dad, and grandparents!) who are there for them and teach them to treasure the past but look forward to the future, all while enjoying the present.
Thanks Jenna. You sure did help me laugh through cancer and beyond. Thank you so much!
Throughout our friendship, I have always loved that you and I could joke about (and through) really, just, well, bad stuff. So, of all the posts you’ve ever written, this one gets the biggest thumbs-up from me of all.