Funny Ha Ha or Funny Grief?
As part of the Screw Work Let’s Play 30 Day Challenge I have publicly committed to spending the month of June creating content for a funny book on grief and loss.
Yes, you read that right. Funny. Grief. Loss. Ok, it’s an experiment. Please just humour me.
The plan is to share this content as I go, as blog posts on the Funny Matters site and its new mini-me Facebook page.
Not so long ago I went through a right old ‘periodis horribilis’: an 18 month journey which started with my mum’s terminal diagnosis and ended with her funeral.
A hell of a lot happened in that time. A lot of tears, yes. A lot of anger, yes. A lot of alcohol, bad choices and regretful mornings, fuck yes yes yes. But what surprised me most was the laughter.
First, let me clarify. It was without a doubt the most difficult and painful time in my life to date. It threw my family and I up into a tornado of awfulness.
You know in disaster movies when the aeroplane door gets ripped off mid flight? It was a bit like that. Only without Tom Hanks. Or the CGI budget.
We live in fear of these kind of things happening to us and our loved ones. It seems unimaginable. Beyond cope-able (who says I can’t make up words?) But I realised this isn’t true. I discovered something I’ll never forget.
Everything becomes normal. Eventually.
And who can’t cope with normal? Except Lady Gaga of course.
Yes. Life goes on.
There are plenty of people out there who’ve had it far worse than me, I know. Some of them may be reading this right now. But let’s not compete. To state the bleeding obvious: bad things happen. To all of us.
We won’t last forever. Not me, not you, not even Ian Beale from Eastenders.
Yet we have no idea how to ‘be’ when it hits the fan. We aren’t taught about what happens when bad shit goes down – we don’t know what to expect from it, how to react to it, or the ways to express it. We have no set protocol to follow or manuals to pore over.
We are overwhelmed and totally lost. Like going to Ikea to find someone’s rubbed out the big arrows on the floor.
All we can do is cobble together a makeshift template from the snatches of signals we see and hear around us – on telly, in books and plays, at the cinema.
It’s these signals which subconsciously guide us on how we think we are expected to ‘be’ throughout this process. How to hold ourselves. What to say. Even how to dress or clasp our hands at the funeral.
And the number one rule: solemnity.
Frankly – and please excuse the frisky language – it’s all bollocks. There are no rules in these situations.
It’s all new to us. It’s all personal.
So. Yes. Life does go on.
Granted, it’s a sort of wonky, muffled version of life. Like a hall of mirrors at the bottom of the ocean. But it’s still life. And to me – where there’s life there’s humour.
Even at the darkest of times there is opportunity to laugh. In fact, it’s often the darkest of times that highlights the humour. The irony. The absurdity of life.
Having a sense of humour and being able to find the funny amid the fear is so important when going through tough times. Scratch that. It’s vital.
I wrote my first Funny Matters piece on this theme in April: How Jennifer Aniston can help monitor your mental health. The response I got back gave me the idea to write a series.
My 30 Day Challenge project is a product of those 18 months I went through. It’s about sharing the different aspects of my experience. Truthfully. Through my eyes. Through my sense of funny. To say loud and proud that it’s okay to laugh when the chips are down.
So. Watch. This. Space
And if any of this resonates with you in some way and you’d like to share your thoughts/experiences – or even if you’re just a big Ian Beale fan – I’d love to hear from you.
Oh. And ‘LIKE’ my Facebook page please. Or else.
[hupso]
[twitter-follow username=”funny_matters” scheme=”dark”]
Subscribe below for future posts by email:
One Comment on “Funny Ha Ha or Funny Grief?”
Leave a Reply
Huff Post UK Blogger
Nab your free PDF below
Shortlisted for Brighton Fringe Award 2015
As featured on
Nominated for
Hi Angela, my name is Lisa, I’m 40, and I’ve just come across your blog. 3 years ago my Dad died of cancer, and in June of this year, my husband died. So that’s both my favourite men who’ve buggered off, hopefully to have a whisky together somewhere in the corner of the universe. My way of coping with life has always been the same, because it’s what my Dad taught me. Just try and find something in every day you can laugh at. No matter what. So that’s what I’ve done, what I’m doing.
When I went to see my Dad in the chapel of rest, the weather was apocalyptic. Proper crashing thunder and lightning. My Dad loved Hammer Horror films. Suddenly we felt like we were in Frankenstein’s castle, and when my brother in law said ‘I keep expecting him to sit up and groan at us’ we laughed so hard we nearly wet ourselves.
When I was arranging my husbands funeral, the nice funeral director lady called me one day to say she’d checked with the Crematorium and they were happy for me to have Meatloafs Bat out of Hell played. I had to tell her she’d got me confused with someone else, but it made me laugh all day. I’d cried the whole day before because music was the most important thing in Rich’s life, and I’d been trying so hard to find the right music, tearing myself apart. Her phone call made me laugh so much I sat down that afternoon and chose what music I knew he’d want.
So I try and find the humour in this situation, even though I feel tormented by it all. That’s how I’m trying to cope. This has also meant that some people, at work really, have stopped asking if I’m ok, because they assume I’m fine. Someone even said to me last week that it was easy to forget what had happened, because I don’t look miserable all the time. I told my mum about it, and she said ‘you need to look more upset at work sometimes. Maybe every now and then just shout IM FINE THANKS FOR ASKING!’.
It’s funny the advice people give you. I can’t actually imagine walking around shouting that in people’s faces.
Last week a friend said to me ‘on the bright side Lis, you can put your Christmas decorations up whenever you want to this year’. I mean, she’s right.
So, Ive been feeling kind of weird lately for smiling, laughing, I’ve been feeling like a grieving widow isn’t supposed to do that. Which is how I found your blog. For some reason on my lunch break today I typed in ‘Funny, Grief’, into a well know search engine. Looking for some assurance that I’m not taking this lightly I suppose. Because I’m really not. It’s really the worst time of my life.
Anyway, your blog appeared.
I havent read much yet, but I will, and just wanted to say thanks. I’m felling like slightly less of a bloody weirdo this evening.
Hope you’re well. Lisa x