It's okay to laugh at a funeral


It's an exaggeration to say my entire extended family has ADD, but a considerable subset of them are characterized by talking too fast, being oblivious, and the resultant combinatorial effect of these things: saying the wrong thing at the wrong time.

My ex-girlfriend Katherine (who most of you have at least heard of) was gracious enough to come to my mom's funeral even though she was still recovering from surgery following her cancer-necessitated hysterectomy.  With a still-sore and swollen midsection, she was hanging in there through the visitation preceding the mass (my mom was Catholic).  Kat and I were talking about how she was feeling since I hadn't seen her since I visited her in the hospital almost a week earlier.  She's talking about how "puffy" her stomach is still when my cousin Peggy walks up and says hello.  I introduce Katherine to her as "my Best Woman," which she served as at my wedding to Dani.

Dani's nowhere around at the moment, probably at the front of the church tending to my Aunt Mildred or visiting with other relatives, but Peggy's heard the news about Dani's pregnancy from countless family members by this point (i.e., we're 21 weeks along just then).  The moment she walks up is when Kat's saying she can't get over how "puffy" she feels.  Peggy pats Kat's stomach and says, "It's only going to get bigger."

Admittedly, Katherine's wearing glasses that day for the first time around me since, I don't know, 1995?  Just like Dani does in some of the pictures of her that Peggy's probably seen.  Katherine just had her hair cut to about Dani's length.  And the larger-than-average midsection for both of them at the same time?  Too weird. 

Life hands you comedy in the middle of tragedies if you're willing to look for it.  It's okay to laugh at a funeral because that's probably when you most need to.


Copyright 2009 Alexplorer.
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