Finding Humor in Grief

I am a frequent "lurker" on Reddit.com, which means I read but don't post.  I'm afraid to.  Those people can be ruthless.  I'm afraid they would chew me up and spit me out in little pieces.  Then, too, I have seen that, if I read far enough, someone else will say whatever little bit of wisdom I am burning to contribute.  That saves me from potential humiliation!

One of the Reddit topic threads (called "sub-Reddits") I was reading this morning, had to do with someone regretting that they hadn't gone through Grandpa's belongings when Grandpa was still alive and could tell the history of some of his things.  I've run into this in my own life.  The only people who could have given life to some of the family treasures and family questions are long gone.  It's also one of the reasons that I write this blog.  (Yes, folks, I'm not just doing this to hear myself think!)  So much is lost in just two generations.  It helps to write things down.

Along with that expression of regret came the contributions of others who were paying tribute to how the "characters" in their families had responded to the death of a loved one.  And, you know, EVERY family has its characters.
One contributor laughed that his/her surviving grandmother was glad that Grandpa had died first so he wouldn't be on top of her for all eternity.  (He was 400 lbs.)
Another Redditor contributed that her grandmother was sitting at the table doing her taxes after Grandpa had died.  She declared that it would probably be the last year she would ever have to do taxes again, thinking she would die soon.  The next year, the person who witnessed this made sure that another family member did Grandma's taxes for her...and every year after that...so Grandma's desire would come true without her having to die to make it happen.  Eight years and counting.

As strange as it seems, there really is momentary humor to be found in grief situations.  They are few and far between, but they do happen.  In my own experience, I can think of a couple:

1.  My grandmother, the Grande Dame of the family, was dying.  She had been very ill for quite awhile, and the family just decided it was time to let her go.  (This was my mother's mother whom my father adopted as lovingly as if she were his own since the very beginning.)  The grandparents lived on a farm that had been in the family for centuries.  My parents were present at the farm for a short vigil that would end in my grandmother's passing.  She and my grandfather had been together for 50+ years, raising three kids through the Great Depression, a fire that burned the family homestead to the ground, World War II, and the accidental death of a beloved grandchild on their watch.  They were strong people because they had to be.

The night my grandmother died, Mom and Popo (my granddad) were at the hospital keeping watch, while my dad stayed at the house.  (This was 1975, before cell phones.  Popo would have been 79 years old then.)  Baba (my grandmother) passed in the wee hours of the night.  I think my mother called home to tell Dad that Baba had passed and they would be home soon.

When Dad heard the garage door go up, he met Mom and Popo at the back door.  He hugged his father-in-law of 46 years and wept with him.  And as they did, Popo's pants fell to the floor.  Suddenly, they were crying and laughing at the same time.  What a classic moment in time that must have been--so sad, yet funny!

2.   My mother died, suddenly and unexpectedly, in 1986.  She'd had a stroke but was doing well in rehab when things went south, the day after Thanksgiving that year.  We were all numb.  Visitation and funeral arrangements were made--blah, blah--so we all knew what we had to do, and did it, even flying in shock.  I honestly don't remember much about it all.  I just needed to get through it with some semblance of sanity.  When it came time to go to the funeral visitation, my brother was nowhere to be found.  We were all going to go together, but no Doug.  We waited and waited.  Eventually, he appeared so we could leave.  Where was he?  He had gone to town to buy fabric to create a mourning band to wear on his arm, then he had to sew it.  Wait...what?

At the time, it wasn't funny, but it is now.  Our brother held up the whole funeral party so he could find a way to wear a visible sign that he was in mourning.  Well, duh!  Weren't we all??  Perhaps you have heard the expression that someone who is always on his/her own schedule will be late to his/her own funeral?  I adapted that for Brother Doug to say, "He will be late to his own mother's funeral."  And he was!