"Sometimes the only way to face death is with humour," writes Jennie Ridyard
Sometimes it hits me like a sucker-punch that one day everybody I love will die.
Last week, my mother-in-law’s sister died in her sleep. It was sad, yes, but not unexpected: sister was 94; mum-in-law is 92.
They’ve both had good, long lives and never lost their marbles, or their crossword puzzle brilliance, or their appreciation of a good joke. Or a bad one.
I went to see mum-in-law with my sad face on and she was ready for me. “Did you hear about that funeral where the coffin was being lowered into the grave, then they heard tapping from the inside?” she said.
Oh yes, said I, because there’d been reports in the news about a woman in Thailand knocking on her coffin just before it went into the crematorium, like something out of a nightmare.
Apparently, the cremation was due to be livestreamed too…
Now I presumed, with the vanity of (relative) youth, mum-in-law was confused about the details. “Yes,” she continued, “but they went ahead anyway because the funeral had already been organised!”
She slapped her thigh, hooting with laughter.
Facing death with humour
Sometimes the only way to face death is with humour. Or you can do what my little sister did when the question of her own potential demise came up.
The thing is our Lucy, who has Down’s syndrome, has long planned what she’ll do when our beloved mother, her carer, dies.
Why, she’ll come live with me of course. So far, so good. And when I die? She’ll go and live with my son and his wife, obviously.
And when they die? Well, then their son (currently nine months old) will inherit her, because no doubt he’ll be delighted to have his 110-year-old great-aunt living with him, like The Highlander.
Last week, my mum tried to explain to her that one day she’ll die too. Lucy considered this and then said: “Will there be a toilet in my coffin?”
Next, she asked if there’d be a glass of water. Now she’s ordered snacks, too, presumably to keep her going while she listens to people say lovely things about her at her funeral, before she rises up from the coffin and trots off to tell everyone she loves all about it.
I sincerely hope that’s how it ends for her – and for all of us.
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