Am I Fine as Frog’s Fuzz? (Is Laughter Really the Best Medicine?)
My father died on June 30, 2024. He was 91, with dementia, and a multitude of health issues, including blindness from macular degeneration.
It’s been six and a half years since my husband died on February 16, 2018. Tim’s death by massive heart attack was sudden and unexpected.
I’m amazed at how my grief with each of these deaths is markedly different. The grief I feel for my dad is a dull, constant ache that never seems to go away. The grief I’ve felt for my husband Tim for six years is a sharp pain that hits on occasions when something reminds me of him or the life I was supposed to have with him.
And yet, throughout, I am reminded, again, of the power of humor.
The day before Dad died, he was responding to family members’ questions with his old familiar jokes and bylines. Asked how he was doing, he responded with “I’m fine as frog’s fuzz.”
He gave us all a laugh we needed to get through what we instinctively knew was the last time we would see him.
When Tim died, in my remarks at his funeral, I recalled an evening when he and I were sitting at the bar at our favorite restaurant, having dinner. Somehow the topic of funerals came up. And he said, “I want to make one thing perfectly clear: When it’s my time to go, I do not want a funeral.”
As many married people know, marriage is a “50/50” endeavor. So, I followed his advice about half the time. And that’s why we had a funeral anyway. (I felt that it was important to give our sons and his parents the opportunity to observe and celebrate his life and share their grief with others. Sorry, Tim. I did what I thought was best at the time.) But I also recalled that Tim had also said, “I want to be cremated. And put my ashes in an urn. And place it on the bar at our favorite restaurant. I’ll be there while you have a party.” So, that’s what we did. (Marriage is full of compromises, right?)
Thus, both times when death entered my life, I discovered that humor, even if just momentarily, had the ability to sooth the raw pain that accompanies life being rearranged without my permission.
I’m a reader. After I became a woman whose partner died (what I call a WWPD), I discovered that my tastes in genre changed. The historical fiction novels and chick lit that I once loved became cumbersome to my grieving brain, addled with widow’s fog. I didn’t want to attempt to follow plots or make connections with characters I no longer cared about. Instead, I began to yearn for concrete facts, research results, and simple solutions. I sought out nonfiction --- books that gave me something to hang onto and didn’t require me to piece plots together. I discovered books about humor and positivity, and found that they provided some healing as I trudged through those awful days and moments of grief.
One book that I discovered is The Laughing Cure: Emotional and Physical Healing --- A Comedian Reveals Why Laughter Really Is The Best Medicine (2016). Written by Brian King, who is a comedian and psychologist, the book shows his unique perspective on the importance of laughter and how to add more humor to our lives. He does not specifically focus on dealing with death; however, the book is an excellent way to learn more about how laughter enables us to cope with life in general. Additionally, and ironically, it’s one of the few books about the subject of humor that’s actually funny.
King’s book helped me discover that humor may, indeed, be the best medicine. I recall reading, as a child, my father’s copies of Reader’s Digest Magazine. My favorite feature in the magazine was “Laughter is the Best Medicine.” All these years later, I marvel at how laughter does, indeed, help. As King says in his book, “Humor is so important in the prevention of disorder. It is a natural tool to help relieve stress, overcome tragedy, cope with disappointment, elevate mood, encourage optimism, and create social bonds" (p. 11).
After Tim died, King’s book also helped me begin to think differently about my situation. I became more proactive in my grief; in other words, I didn’t just let it happen to me. I began to manage my grief in the way that I wanted to. I found that the only way to get through days and moments of the pain of grief was to first acknowledge and feel it as necessary, and second, if at all possible, soothe it with humor.
Now, with my father’s death six years after my husband’s, I’m experiencing a new kind of grief that produces a new kind of pain. I think it’s time to reread King’s book.
The Laughing Cure is a joy to read and would be a wonderful addition to your library if you’re interested in reading about how humor can help you get through almost anything.
References
King, B. (2016). The laughing cure: Emotional and physical healing --- A comedian reveals why laughter really is the best medicine. New York: Skyhorse Publishing.
