Gallows Humor

Beloved Readers,

Hello! I hope you are all well and surviving the beginning of the school year, High Holy Days, back to school sales, or whatever else your calendars hold, with aplomb. It's been a bit too long since my last post, but I think you will understand when you hear what we've been up to. On August 10, less than four months after my father-in-law succumbed to colon cancer after a nearly five year battle, we lost my mother-in-law as well. We don't know exactly what happened yet, but it was at the same time sudden (we got a call that she was found unconscious, put Matt on the next flight, and she had passed before he got to Indianapolis), and not unexpected. She had been in ill health for many years, was suffering from cognitive decline, and was of course struggling to find life and comfort without Gary after so many decades at his side. She was buried next to him on what would have been their 49th wedding anniversary. Some couples don't make sense without each other, and in a way it's a mercy that she didn't have to try to figure out how to do so.

So Hubby Matt has had a bit of a rough year, to say the least. I've had tough times over the years, and in my family, when the going get tough, the tough get sarcastic. Mom and I were giggling while we were at the side of Dad's death bed. Well, not RIGHT at his side, and certainly not at him. But we have always found comfort in the "laugh rather than cry" approach to trials and tragedy.

Not everyone finds this comforting. Exhibit A, Matt looked more horrified than consoled when I tried to look on the bright side, "Well, it can't happen again!"

I think I'm learning when a joke would not be appreciated and keeping it to myself. You could ask Matt if he thinks I'm figuring it out but frankly I'd rather you didn't. But more interesting, I think I'm finally figuring out where this comes from. I've always interpreted it as toughness, or optimism. A way to keep going through the tough times, to get done what must be done (Have you noticed how the first two weeks after someone dies are just a huge freaking to-do list?) without letting grief or anger slow you down (too much). And perhaps it serves that purpose. But more likely it's just a convenient way to hide from pain. If you can laugh, you won't cry, or at least you get a moment of rest from crying (raise your hand if you have done both simultaneously. Yep.) If you can make angry jokes, you don't have to think about how sad or unfair or just freaking inconvenient this next challenge is. I thought I was being optimistic, but maybe I was just being scared. I've thought of this humor as feisty and strong, but maybe I just didn't want to do the hard work of grieving when it's inconvenient. I've yet to thoroughly examine whether the jokes and comments are actually funny. It's not really the point. The real point is, I think maybe I can understand why Matt doesn't find these comments funny. He's wrong, of course, I'm a total crackup. But we don't all handle grief in the same way, and what has comforted me in the past strikes him as perhaps too stark.

A quick comment on Pat. It seems a fitting tribute to her memory that, as the family gathered in the house this weekend to work on cleaning it out for sale, the foodies in the family descended on her cook book collection like flies. Like Gary, she liked to play host, and feed people well. And she loved her family very much. In tribute to her legacy, we should all eat something with way too much cholesterol in it, and share it with a loved one, and demand that they sing after dinner.

Much love,
Suzi