Most of the stuff written about Death is LAME.
Yup, I said it, lame.
Go ahead, Google it. But I’m sure you already know what you’ll find.
You’ll find a ton of articles like “The X Stages of Grief”, “What Happens to Us When We Die?”, “Dealing with Death” out there — enough to choke the life out of the living.
Now, ok…I’m not saying they’re not helpful to some. But what about the rest of us. The ones who’ve dealt with Death for years, if not decades? You’ve already heard all the intellectual arguments and theories, seen various therapists, read a stack of books all about how deal with Death. Good on ya. But now, years later you realize there isn’t a one-size-fits-all “solution”, grief is not something you just “get over” by reading a book, and it’s something you have to ultimately deal with ON YOUR OWN. Sans stuff.
But here’s the good news:
No one knows how you should deal with it better than you do.
And to some of us, that means dealing with it through humor.
(That would include me if you haven’t figured that out yet.)
And I’m guessing you too since you’re still here reading this.
It took decades for me to come to grips that Death is an unwelcomed guest that set up camp on my couch almost 30 years ago and has no intention of leaving (I mean, I wouldn’t either, our movie library and snack shelves are always at full capacity.) But that doesn’t mean I have to join him on the couch and sullenly wait for my turn. I can and will still enjoy the life I have and that includes laughing (and sinister chuckles.)
Humor is one of the few things that can disarm Death, if even for a moment.
And isn’t that what we were trying to do in the first place by seeking out solace and advice?
That little epiphany there came to me in cartoon form with Carl, my interpretation of a poor soul having to go through the drudgery of regular daily life in a dead man’s world. Working in the family business doing the paperwork for the underworld while dreaming of the day his screenplay gets picked up and he can leave checking the checkboxes to someone else.
Carl T. Reaper
So, are you ready to go tell Death to wait in the car while you enjoy this life, one chuckle at a time?
Good. Let’s go, it’s party time.
The purpose of this site is to support those who have been left behind by the loss of a loved one by finding the light and humor in life. If you find yourself struggling or a friend tells you about a plan to hurt themselves please call 1-800-273-TALK (8255) for free, confidential, 24/7 access to help.
There are people out there who care, I promise.
Hi there. It’s me, Amy.
- I’m a fine artist, designer, and hoarder of objects that “could be made into something some day” much to the dismay of my storage capacity.
- Yes, I’m really 40.
- No, I have no formal writing background and my grammar kinda sucks. Deal. With. It.
- I stay active playing roller derby and other various “why do I do this to my body” workouts.
- I really have no idea what happens to us when we die, I’m just a small town girl armed with a computer and a sharpie who lost her mom at 11 years old trying to make sense of my uninvited BFF, Death.