L is for Laughter...

J-Man, Mikey, Gayla and Sosie laughing it up in
the summer of 2010.

Having recently read Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, a dialog between the mother and the son has stuck with me. He is angry because she is laughing with her friend. She tells him that she laughs because it makes her feel better. He says he doesn't want to feel better (about the death of his father). She counters that he should.

In the beginning of our greatest loss, I would find myself laughing about some shared memory of my beloved Sister Gayla. It would strike me as awkward and make me question myself. Sometimes, the laughter would bring on the hysterical crying and screaming. Sometimes, I would just enjoy the memory and not focus on the loss. Most recently though, I am painfully aware that I don't laugh at much of anything, and I miss laughter as much as I miss my sister.

It is safe to say that I am fully wedged in to my depression. It's like being caught between two large boulders on the river bottom. The water carries past me all of the wonderful treasures I have in life like my handsome and loving hubby dearest, my beautiful darling daughter, my parents, my brother and sister-in-law, my husband's family, my friends, and all the nieces and nephews. I wave, I participate in their lives while they are with me, I smile, I talk, and I am present. However, the rocks hold me down and the water stays just low enough that I can breathe. I never move though.

I think laughter would be the super power to bust up those rocks. However, I feel guilty for laughing. I also don't know where to go or how to really experience true laughter anymore. I just feel like something needs to happen and happen pretty soon or I may be lost to this sadness forever. Gayla would hate that...it would make her really angry with me. Even that knowledge isn't the boot in my buttocks that I need.

Sorry for being debby downer today...I'll try again tomorrow.