When I was younger, I was horrified by the way my mom and her friends always seemed to laugh in the face of tragedy.
Sick pal laid up? Ha. Going through a nasty divorce? Oh, that’s a good one. Friend’s mother has Alzheimer’s and doesn’t even remember who her daughter is? HILARIOUS!
They created a party atmosphere everywhere they went: hospitals, nursing homes, funeral parlors. They’d be the ones playing music and telling jokes at a wake, and you half expected them to throw a tablecloth over the casket for a makeshift bar.
To a teenager who hadn’t yet experienced that big kind of heartache, I was shocked by the magnitude of their seeming insensitivity. How can you be so callous? I asked. You all should supporting your friends by sharing their tears and suffering with them, not laughing your fool heads off!
Little did I know they were geniuses. They weren’t laughing AT the hard knocks; they were laughing THROUGH them. It was their coping strategy, and a damn good one at that.
Instead of offering plain old sympathy, they showed a kind of love that only the closest friends can share. They turned tears into giggles. They empowered one another. That levity didn’t minimize the situation, but drew out a sense of resilience… of fortitude… of moxie. You messin’ with us, Life? Screw off. WE CAN HANDLE THIS!
Now it’s my generation’s turn to face those curves, the kind that knock you on your ass. A snapshot of my circle of friends shows the kind of stuff so many of us everywhere encounter on a daily basis, particularly as we get older. There’s the worry over sick children, or caring for aging and dying parents. There’s the grief that accompanies death of a loved one, or the end of a marriage. There’s the roller coaster of addiction and despair of depression; lost jobs and the heavy crush of financial pressure; chronic pain or illness.
The list, sadly, is a long one. But we laugh — and we carry on.
We realize that from death comes new life. We find new relationships. We seek and offer help. We try to find comfort in small moments. We prop each other up — with a cup of tea, a listening ear, a hug. We look for silver linings.
Because, really, what else can we do?
As the saying goes: “To thrive in life, you need three bones. A wishbone. A backbone. And a funny bone.”
It’s not always about being stoic and strong. A good chuckle keeps things pliable. Without the ability to bend, we break — and that, my friends, is no laughing matter.
