I got my laugh back.
I first noticed when I was watching something silly— probably an SNL skit or maybe an episode of “The Voice”—I like how the judges banter with one another. Anyway, it was a full-throated kind of thing, almost a bark. Didn’t last long, couldn’t sustain it, but there it was.
I’ve had two major tragedies in my life and each time, I found it hard to believe I would laugh again. I knew intellectually I would; I just didn’t feel it.
But here it was, not a small chuckle or a slight snigger but an honest to god laugh. And the next week, something even more amazing happened. I got silly.
For me, silly is what happens when two people (or more but usually two) free associate. Some inconsequential statement or incident triggers a thought and suddenly you’re off on all sorts of tangents and down all sorts of rabbit holes. Free association can send you and your dialogue partner into strange new worlds that no one else can see. If you’re really letting go, everything you’re coming up with is unbelievably funny and no one else gets it but you two and who cares?
My sister and I used to engage in this silly sort of bantering on road trips. I could make her laugh so hard she was left gasping for air. I admit I loved that. It absolutely helps to know someone well. You have hundreds of frames of reference and can take in as many directions as possible. The very best kinds of these riffs end up with both parties seized by laughter—ow, my stomach hurts, I-can’t-catch my breath paroxysms.
I had the same kind of experience the other day with my physical therapist. I’ve known him for more than a decade, but we’re not best buddies. Yet somehow, we share enough history and have enough cultural touchstones in common to set the stage for an epic riff. A simple, off-the-cuff statement— “I have to go to the Social Security office tomorrow”—turned into an extended skit on all the things I could do while waiting, which included all the questions I could ask the clerk once I got called on that had absolutely nothing to do with the reason I was there. Utter nonsense that made no sense. It built and built unto the two of us were cackling like demented patients at an institute. My stomach hurt, I could barely catch my breath.
It felt good.
I still cry. It’s to be expected. I miss my sister/best friend terribly. It’s only been a few months. I have to go through the seasons without her. Summer, which is when we traveled, will be hard.
But I’m all about laughing now and I don’t care how it happens. My older dog with the oversized personality can make me laugh. So can a clip from late night television host or a line in a book or a sign in a window or a puppy. Or a physical therapist, the guy who sees you at your worst and has the clearest insight into how much you hurt, at least physically.
Maybe that seems silly, but I’ll take it.