Laughter and Grief

For the most part, death isn’t funny.

“Grief” and “humor” aren’t often used in the same sentence. There are moments in the beginning of grief when we’re laughing hysterically, but generally that’s in the middle of the night and it’s not a happy sound. Or we’re laughing while standing by ourselves in the woods holding on to a tree to keep from falling. Or we’re in the shower staring at the soap for five minutes. These moments are more about trying not to cry than anything funny.

What We Grieve

Our Astonishing Light

We do not grieve the memories of our spouses who died. Surprised? Me, too. Sometimes we are so overwhelmed with a profound loneliness that we grieve everything. Meanwhile the rest of the world goes on without noticing.

The Hollow Days

            I wasn’t finding much that was helpful for dealing with grief in my Christian community. Maybe this was because Ev died unexpectedly, or because her dying in her 40s left us in shock and made each of us feel vulnerable, as if any of us could die at any time. So I went looking at other religions to see what they did. The grief traditions in Judaism helped me the most, and this is what I understand about them.

Searching For Joy

Grief, Play, and Religion

Joy is really hard to muster when we’re grieving.

So is smiling. And if we let ourselves feel any joy, we then feel incredibly guilty for taking pleasure in something that our loved ones no longer can. In the beginning of grief, it’s a struggle just to get through the day.

Comfort in a Time of Grief

There is little comfort when we’re deep in grief. When we’re done actively grieving, it’s different. But not completely, and it comes so slowly.

It will never be all right with me that Evelyn suffered for years with physical aches and pains, worked hard to recover and was almost back to full health when she died of an unknown heart problem. She was only in her forties when she died. I was bitter about that then, and I’m bitter about that now.

* If you would like to read the rest of this post, let me know and I’ll send it to you. *

            (A version of this was first published by Refuge in Grief.)