Humor and Death:

Humor and Death: The Lighter Side of Loss
by Allen Klein

"I have always set personal boundaries of what is funny and what is not. I have been quoted as saying, 'There are just some things you don't poke fun at.' I was wrong. Laughter rises out of tragedy when you need it the most and rewards you for your courage."
-- Erma Bombeck

My Story
I call myself a "Jollytologist." I travel the country, presenting speeches and seminars on humor. This unusual career began shortly after my wife died as a result of primary biliary cirrhosis -- a rare liver disease. I started to explore the value of humor because of the important role it played before, during, and after her death.

At first it seemed strange to me that my career in humor would emerge out of a loss. But as I began to work in the death and dying field, and saw how humor helped both care givers and patients, it seemed less bizarre.

Certainly illnesses such as cancer or AIDS may not be what we think of as a laughing matter. They, after all, often involve pain and the loss of life or limb. Still, life goes on and funny things happen in spite of illness and death.

Anyone who has worked in the death and dying arena knows, for example, that humor will frequently rear its head during the strangest of times. It is nature's way of giving us a perspective on a situation and allowing us to rise above it. Humor helps us keep our balance when life throws us a curve ball.

I am not advocating that humor should cover up grief or that laughter need replace tears. It is important to grieve the loss of a loved one. Unresolved grief often causes problems down the road.

What I am saying is that laughter and tears are both valid in the dying and grieving process. Often, however, our attitude toward death is one of strict seriousness. Humor and death are frequently considered at opposite ends of the spectrum. Many people feel that laughing about anything dealing with death goes beyond the bounds of good taste.

And that may be true, especially if we use humor to put down anyone who is suffering. But appropriate humor, that which naturally comes out of adversity, gives those dealing with life-challenging situations power over a powerless situation. In fact, as writer George Mikes once pointed out, "laughing at death gives us triple pleasure:

* the pleasure of the joke itself;
* the malicious joy of laughing at death's expense; and
* the pleasure of taming Death and fraternizing with him."

Their Stories
How do I know that humor can help us bear the seemingly unbearable? How do I know that humor can help us cope? I know because I have experienced humor's positive effects in both my personal and professional life.

In my first book, The Healing Power of Humor, I relate the humor I found during my wife's illness. And I continue to share that story with my audiences nationwide.

Years ago, my wife, Ellen, lay dying in the hospital, a copy of "Playgirl" by her side. Suddenly, she opened to the male nude centerfold and insisted it be put on the wall.

"I think it's too risque for the hospital," I said.

"Nonsense," she replied. "Just take a leaf from the plant over there and cover up the genitals."

I did as she requested. This worked well for the first day. Everything was okay for the second day. By the third day, however, the leaf started to shrivel up and reveal more and more of what we were trying to conceal.

We laughed every time we looked at a plant or a dried-up leaf. The duration of our levity may have lasted only 10 or 20 seconds, but it brought us closer together, revived us, and steered us through our sea of darkness.

I again experienced the healing power of humor several years ago when my father-in-law was near death from brain cancer. He had just come home from one of his hospital stays. It was his and my mother-in-law's wedding anniversary, so I suggested that they invite a few friends over for dinner and I would make a turkey.

Jimmy managed to get out of bed to join us. He enjoyed the meal, but the strain of feeding himself and the presence of guests were obviously tiring him. Noticing this, and knowing that he could not hear very well, my mother-in-law wrote a note and passed it to me to give to him. I read it and got hysterical with laughter. She remembered what she just wrote and laughed out loud too.

The note said, "Happy Anniversary, dear. Do you want to go to bed?"

Jimmy read what his wife had written, looked up across the table, and with a twinkle in his eye and a smile on his face, he said to her, "I would love to, dear, but we have company."

I shared this story at Jimmy's memorial service and realized afterward that the laughter helped balance the pain and provided us with a fond memory of his final hours.

Another example occurred when my friend Rick was dying of AIDS. Once, I went into Rick's house and there on the wall was a Star of David, a picture of Buddha, and a Crucifix. And Rick was a Quaker!

I said, "Rick, how come you have all of these diverse religious symbols?"

He said, "You never know who's right, I'm covering all my bases."

I'm convinced Rick lived so long with AIDS because of his sense of humor. He was able to joke about himself and his illness. Every year he would have a birthday party and every year he would poke fun at the fact that he was still alive. One year his invitation read: "Rick's Fourth Annual Last Birthday Party (He lived through another year, can you believe it?)" Even his obituary, which I'm sure he had a hand in writing, was poignantly funny. It read: "Rick Sapporito -- Quaker, Marine, Housewife."

In my professional life, I also found humor in my work with Hospice. One patient, for example, who was very near death refused to eat. She said, "Why should I eat? I'm going to die soon anyway."

The following day, she announced her intention not to eat again. By the third day, however, she arose from her bed and joined her family at the breakfast table. The amazed family members wanted to know why she was joining them for breakfast after so many days of not eating.

The frail elderly lady turned and answered, "So who wants to die on an empty stomach?"

Another time, one of my hospice patients proclaimed that after she died, she wanted her ashes put in some paint and the bedroom repainted.

When I puzzled at her request she said that it made perfect sense. "Then," she replied, "I can look down from the ceiling and see if there is any hanky-panky going on."

I close with a quote from George Bernard Shaw who said, "Life does not cease to be funny when someone dies any more than it ceases to be serious when someone laughs."