i was planning on making today’s blog post about anger- i seem to have PLENTY of that right about now. anger at everything- “friends”, family, kids, life, money, the universe. PLENTY of anger to go around. trust.
instead today’s blog is going to be about humor- cause that’s how i roll. i just tweeted (if you don’t know what that is, i can’t love you any more) the following: “trust: there’s nothing in this world that can’t be overcome with a smile and a slightly off color joke. trick is knowing how to do both.”
it’s true. humor has gotten me through this far. being able to find SOMETHING to laugh at, being able to find a smile, being able to do both. but it’s hard. it’s REALLY fucking hard. i don’t want to smile some days. i don’t want to make a joke. i don’t want to be happy even for a moment. and there’s been plenty of days that i haven’t been. there have been days of nothing but fear or anger or hurt or a million other things. but the days with the smiles and the jokes- THOSE are the good days. and what good is a smile if you can’t share it? right? or some other cheesy lame ass expression like that…
so. here’s a few of the smiles that have gotten me through the last few weeks, please understand some may end up being not so funny now but they were fucking pee your pants funny in the moment:
moment #1: introducing my mom to my boyfriend the morning she came to tell me about the fire. i answered the door in a wife beater (a-shirt for those against domestic violence) and underwear (incase you missed that in yesterday’s post). THAT’S IT. and i had to wake up boyfriend while crying and snuffling and being a MESS and introduce him to my mom for the first time IN MY UNDERWEARS. the uuber religious crazy person from whence i sprang meeting the boy sharing my bed outside of marriage. good moment. warm, fuzzy, family memory for the scrap books.
moment #2: after getting back from my seeing my dad’s house for the first time, boyfriend’s roommates girlfriend (did you follow that trail?) and i were making dinner and drinking. we may or may not have split a WHOLE bottle of wine betwixt the two of us in under 15 minutes. so, the two of us, slightly *cough* intoxicated, trying to cut vegetables for a roast, start talking- and she drops this bomb: “well, if he wasn’t on the international watch list before, he sure is now.” _I_ABOUT_DIED_LAUGHING. understand: boyfriend is here as a political refugee. from iraq. and speaks very good english, but even better arabic. and he went with me to the scene of the worst loss in WSP history…i’m suffering a failure to communicate the humor here…but trust: it was freaking hilarious. maybe it was the wine. everyone go drink a half a bottle of wine then come back and read this again…i’ll wait.
moment #3: finding the ONE, SINGLE, ONLY remaining piece of my dad that is completely and 100% in tact at the scene of the fire: his BRAND NEW golf clubs that were safe and secure in the back of his expedition parked in the driveway. why is this funny? my dad was TERRIBLE at golf. my brother (who took the clubs) is even worse. i’m not even allowed to play- i’m restricted to driving the cart. so, of COURSE, the one thing that survives- it couldn’t be a photo album or a treasured keepsake or a family heirloom- it has to be his golf clubs, the one thing we’re all TERRIBLE at. i mean…REALLY DAD? your final dying wish? as your life flashed before your eyes and you were granted one last request on this earth? it couldn’t be for a window to open? or a sudden torrential downpour? or, you know, not to die? your FINAL REQUEST was to save the new golf clubs? i love you dad.
moment #4: in the cars on the way to the procession, riding with a good family friend and her parents who were all best friends of my dad (he called her my other sister and spent all his time with her parents). we’re riding along and we start talking about bi-mart (turn at the bi-mart to get to where the procession is starting). and i crack up…it’s not turn at the church, or a left at the patrol office- it’s turn left at bi-mart. very fitting for my dad. and they start joking about how much they all love the bi-mart coupons. in fact- just the day before, they had been able to get four bags of doritos FREE using bi-mart coupons- and the mom suddenly says: YOU KNOW- we should have brought one of the bags- we could have had some road trip snacks! OH.MY.GOD. about peed myself. road trip snacks? in a funeral procession? of 182 police cars? of course. we should have brought road trip snacks. and what better road trip snack than doritos? because nothing says klassy like showing up for a funeral in a full black suit with orange dorito cheese all over (it always happens) and nice dorito breath for when you have to greet and talk to the governor. oh.my.god. i cracked up. road trip snacks.
moment #5: getting to the staging lot for the procession was hard. seeing all the police, the cars, the emergency response vehicles, all the people that worked with my dad, the people that hadn’t worked with him but still knew the impact of the whole event. it was moving. but i held it together. until we went to actually pull out and leave- they just HAD to release doves for us to drive under. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? there’s only so much waterproof mascara can do people! and i can’t help but think of my dad, and i can’t help but wish, if there’s any justice or sense of balance in the world- i just HOPE upon HOPE that somewhere, in one of the cages, of all the birds they released, PLEASE, PLEASE say there was one retarded dove that either flew into a windshield, “blessed” one of the motorcycle police, wandered around and couldn’t figure out how to fly…SOMETHING. please say there was one retard bird in the batch. i only got to see the first few…but i couldn’t help but laugh in my head just hoping…it wasn’t a moment i got to see, but it’s a moment i got to hope for…
moment #6: my body guard. it wasn’t so much of a moment as a WHOLE DAY with an outstanding officer that knew exactly how to make me laugh and keep me moving forward and got me through the whole ceremony. BLESS HIM for never once calling my by name. i was never trooper miller’s daughter, sherry, ms. miller- the WHOLE DAY i was: “where’s the girl with the blue hair?” ADORE. and i adore him for telling me about his son, the 6’7” 280-some-odd pound college linebacker that played all four years of college ball, graduated, then decided to go to a beauty academy. if i ever decided to cheat on my darling kati with another hair dresser it would be with that guy. because: AWESOME. and i adore him for scolding me when i wasn’t where i was supposed to be. and for reminding us that no matter how much brass or how many fancy titles, or who else showed up, WE, the family, were the dignitaries for the day. and for going against the grain and proudly wearing a flamingo on his uniform pocket for everyone to see for anne. and for keeping track of me the whole day until the moment i walked out the door heading back to the motel. and for just being everything an officer should be. and for being even more than that.
moment #7: talking to the funeral home on the phone to verify the forms granting permission for cremation: me: “ummm…is there really anything left for you guys to do? is this paperwork even really necessary?”
moment #8: speaking of ashes: getting ready to do my tattoo, asking my artist: “ready to meet my dad?” as i pulled the ashes out of my purse.
moment #9: being able, every single day, to still hear my dad’s voice in my head about EVERYTHING.
about the service: really? you couldn’t just dig a hole and kick me in it? what’s all this mess for?”
about the estate: “make sure you take care of yourself. remember, you can’t feed the world.”
about buying a house: “i wish i had a million dollars to buy you a house so you would never have to worry again.” this isn’t the way i want it dad, but you’re doing that.
i know there’s so many more- it’s been three weeks and i’m still standing, so there had to have been WAY more moments- i’ll add more as i remember them. but these are the slightly inappropriate moments that made me smile and have helped me get through to here. so. there you have it. as long as you can smile and tell (or think) something slightly off color you’ll be fine. well, not fine, but a little less of a train wreck. oh hell, you’ll still be a train wreck but at least a mildly entertaining one.
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