Thoughts & Things

I Laugh At Funerals

I know it's a bit of a cliche, but I can't help myself. I laugh at funerals. I would say I'd prefer to be serious the whole time, but I really don't. I prefer that I laugh at funerals, and I have no intention of stopping. How could I not? I think I would explode. Not with laughter, but with other negative emotions. Laughter is the only healthy outlet I know.

I don't think death is inherently funny, just to be clear. I only prefer to find the funny parts and laugh at them. Preferably getting others to laugh along with me. I can remember being a little girl at my best friend's grandmother's funeral and getting her to laugh with me. Nothing in the world had felt as good as that sound did.

I know it's inappropriate, and there are many folks more serious than I who don't approve. I just need it, and can't seem to stop it. I can recall times throughout my entire life where I used cartoons as part of the at home grieving process. My sister doesn't approve of this, and finds it a tad inappropriate. I think my grandmother probably would too if she realised how bad I am for it.

I wish it didn't make everyone so uncomfortable, but I know people grieve in different ways. For me, grief involves just as much laughter as tears. There has to be that balance. Lately I feel like I've done a bit too much of both. I also feel like I haven't done enough of either.

Let this serve as a verbal reminder to myself for when I speak at my grandmother's funeral in the morning: funeral speeches are not for jokes.

(I have committed to blogging daily with Give It 100. This is Day Thirty-Two. Four days of leave taken total.)