I seem to attract tragic. My dad died in a car crash the
week before my wedding, the funeral ended up being the day before. My husband
has a gene for cancer which his brother has died from. He got cancer himself
but was treated quickly but he’s not too well these days. He had a breakdown on
top of that while I was pregnant. You cope with these things not through being
strong, but by having no choice, and by having a good sense of humour. When my
dad died the funeral director came round to ask for stories of his life, and
all we could think of was the funny stuff, and his eulogy was made up of the
funny antics of his life. Like the time he fell off a cliff and landed on a
ledge rather than fall all the way to the bottom. He apparently sat up
gratefully, and then rolled off down the rest of the cliff breaking his leg. The
time he fell through the hatch in a pet shop, but was thankfully unhurt, unlike
the guy he landed on who had a broken arm. It was the only funeral I have been
to where the people attending all laughed. And it was good to laugh, it was ok.
He would have loved that. He also had the same sense of humour.
The past few
years’ bad luck I’ve managed to laugh about too, the ridiculousness of having
the sheer amount of shitty luck would only happen to us. Whatever doesn’t kill
you makes you stronger? Try filling in a DLA form without contemplating murder.
Try having it knocked back yet having enough medical evidence to sink the titanic.
I have to laugh or I’m liable to do a Michael Douglas in Falling Down in the
DWP office. Nothing is more infuriating yet is impossible to direct that anger at
than a massive bureaucratic institution. So I laugh at it, the ridiculousness
of it all. For me tragedy and comedy are intricately connected. I like sick
jokes, not because I’m sick, but because it provides a break in the tension of
grief. It allows the pain to still be there, but doesn’t let it consume
totally. I feel a bit evil, but it’s not malicious, it’s just away to cope. I
have to see the funny side of my misfortunes, because it seems to be bloody
funny sometimes. Only my dad would manage to die on Friday the 13th.
As if I wasn’t superstitious enough on that day? Selfish bastard.
3 comments:
So, was that Tragic or Comedic then? ;)
Great post, as always.
(and that is bloody bad luck, by the way).
You're a proper trooper Lindsay. Remember this when you come to perform. Remember what you can do. Remember how you can sparkle in a field of shit.
Twinkle, twinkle.
xx
You missed out mentioning the names of the two people you sat next to whilst doing your degree. Although that's more comedy than tragedy :-)
Great post,
Ash
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