Through Tears and Laughter

While I am certain that laughter cures grief, I also believe that our tears cure our grief as well.  I have taken extensive grief training and as I studied grief and worked through my own grief, I came to realize that tears empty out my pain, and laughter helps me to regain my hope again.

I remember the first time I laughed after my dad died.  He died when I was 33 years old and he was only 60 years old.  The cancer spread very quickly and overtook his body and within just a few short months of the diagnosis, he was gone.  My dad had been my mentor and guide.  He knew me (sometimes better than I knew myself).  I honestly didn’t know how I would cope without his prayer covering and his wisdom.  Every time something happened, I immediately called my dad.

I cried lots of tears when my dad died, but eventually I remembered my dad’s helpful and generous attitude when I lost my keys or made some other silly mistake (I could write volumes about running over curbs…) and I was able to laugh again.

Once when I was in college (living 3 hours away) I called him at midnight when I locked my keys in my car.  (Yes, I do realize losing my keys or locking them in the car is a life-long pattern for me…LOL). 

He said, “I’m in KC.”

I said, “I know…what do I do?”

To that he replied, “I’M IN Kansas City.”

Silence. (I thought, so?)

Then he said, “Well, I guess you could go find “the guys” (John do you remember that night?) and they’ll know how to get into the car.”

It was after midnight, but I got into the boys dorm (things were different in those days) and we got a coat hanger and headed for the car.

All went fine until the police showed up.  That’s another story. At least that night I got into my car and got my keys and my purse back.

My Mom always knew if I called the house and asked for dad that ‘something was up’.  He never yelled, never blamed, he would just chuckle and say, “I’ll be right there.”

I had hoped that God would “heal me” of my obsession with lost keys (I figure it must be some sort of subconscious obsession since I seem to keep doing it), after my dad died, or someday, but he didn’t (or hasn't yet). 

As it turns out, God did this really cool miraculous thing.  After my dad died, my kids started saying to me before I locked the doors, “Mom, you got the keys?” 

After my kids went to college and later married, I wondered what I would do about the key thing.  Now, my daughter has my spare keys and frequently comes to let me in.  When she’s with me she still says, “do you have the keys?” before I shut the door. What’s so remarkable is that her attitude is as cheerful and charming as my dad’s always was.  Often, when she brings me the keys (even at 6:00 am) she is laughing (with me). 

My middle son and his wife gave me a key finder Christmas before last.

My youngest son and his wife gave me a wrist key ring so I can attach my keys to my body this Christmas. 

I see a theme emerging…

After tears, in laughter we resolve our grief (and our shortcomings).