I ran about the funeral reception laughing.
That’s a sentence you thought you would never hear, right?
It’s true. The day of my mom’s funeral, on January 8th, 2009, I laughed. Not because I felt happy – no way was that possible. However, something strange happened.
Let me back up a little. My mother suffered from alcoholism her entire adult life. Of course, this seriously deteriorated her health, so one morning she simply did not wake up. And that was that. One morning, at age 13, I woke up and didn’t have a mom anymore. I awoke to my dad leaned over me explaining, “the police are here.”
From that moment on, the days blurred together. Friends and family brought us food. They brought us cards. They said I’m sorry. Friends said sorry, neighbors said sorry, complete strangers and kids I despised at school said sorry.
If you were to go to my bedroom at my parents’ house right now, you would find a purple box filled with cheesy, flower-adorned Hallmark greeting cards. Every single one of them reads, “I’m sorry” in some shape or form. Those words drive me up a wall. I appreciate every one of those frilly cards with golden cursive font on the front, but I cannot handle the words written inside them. The words so many people, many I do not even know, have uttered to me.
“I’m sorry” serves as the standard condolence for when a loved one passes. Most people struggle to find the words to say, so they settle for these. I get it – it’s hard! I myself struggle to console others, even when I have been through a loss myself. Hence why I wrote this: to share the words and actions that helped me.
“I’m really excited to see you soon.”
Wow. Amidst a whirlwind of “I’m sorry,” these words caught my attention. They convey positivity. They help me to realize a normal life approaches. A happy one. A life without any more sorrys.
A basket of chick flicks and gossip magazines.
Now living in a house full of testosterone, I required extra doses of femininity. A kind family friend realized this, and took it upon herself to ensure I didn’t drown in boy.
I ran about the funeral reception laughing.
This is key.
All of my friends, cousins, and even my terribly awkward 8th grade boyfriend attended the funeral. Among the sorrys, I found an escape. Surrounded by these friends and familiar faces, I felt like a normal kid for a few sweet minutes. These friends, cousins, and “love of my life” at the time did not say I’m sorry. They helped me to forget, and feel normal. They played games with me – at a funeral!
But no one seemed to mind. Because I smiled, because I ran, because I played. It made me feel a hell of a lot better than any sorry I have ever received. Even if it only lasted ten minutes, these wonderful people gave me the ticket to escape my grief and my problems.
All of you out there, think past the I’m sorry! Sure, you can still say it. We all struggle to find the right words in these situations. However, I encourage you to think outside the “sorry” box. What can you do to help your grieving friend or family member flee the monotonous sorrys and escape to a normal life for a minute? Ask them to go grab coffee and talk about completely normal things. Bring them whatever chick flicks, magazines, or snacks you deem appropriate. Even a simple “I’m really excited to see you soon” can break the mold.
No one can heal a grieving heart, but we all have the capacity to brighten up a person’s day with a simple gesture.
