DISCLAIMER: Before you dive into today’s post, I want to let you know that what you’re about to read is a departure from my usual comedic escapades. Today’s piece is a heartfelt tribute, a moment of reflection on the profound and sometimes challenging aspects of life – the experience of grief. I know we’ve built this “relationship” based on laughter and lighthearted banter, but this is dedicated to the memory of a loved one. I’d understand if you get off this one. I’ll be returning to our regularly scheduled programming in the next post.
There always exists a moment stuck in your memory when you were a child, where the laughter stops, and the tears begin to fall. For me was the very first time I saw my mother cry. The weight of her sorrow remains imprinted on our hearts forever.
My mom in her early 20s, a recently widowed woman, with the weight of the world on her shoulders, sat with a letter clutched in her hands.
The letter was from her sister, my aunt, with the news that their mother had passed away. Being a kid myself, I couldn’t comprehend the grief or the complexities of adult pain, but what I could understand was that my mom was hurting. A mom, who is supposed to be our rock and pillar of strength, was grappling with a loss that transcended the boundaries of time and space. The loss of her mom. My mom, who had been through so much already, was unable to attend her own mother's funeral due to the financial constraints that accompanied our circumstances.
Witnessing your mom crying is an experience that transcends age. No matter how old you are, the feeling of powerlessness in the face of your mother's tears is a poignant reminder of the shared vulnerability that unites us all.
The inability to alleviate her pain or provide the comfort she so desperately needed was rough and my attempts to provide any comfort were limited to the realm of innocence. But somehow, I managed to coax a little laughter from her. Or perhaps, in her way, she summoned a smile to reassure me. That’s the magic of a mother’s love – the ability to find strength to comfort others even in moments of personal sorrow.
Over the years, I’ve been telling how I’ve initiated my journey into comedy....thanks to my failed attempts as a \"musician\". I’m realizing though, as I’m writing this tribute to my aunt that I stumbled upon comedy in that very moment, what a potent remedy – the healing power of laughter.
Witnessing my mom, amidst the shadows of loss, break into laughter bestowed upon me a sense of empowerment I hadn’t known before. It was a profound realization that emerged from a moment of shared grief. So, now I proudly declare my journey into comedy, I owe it to that pivotal moment when the sound of my mom’s laughter became a balm for the wounds of sorrow. Only a mom can do that.
On that trip, I had the opportunity to meet with my mom’s side of the family, and it didn’t take long for me to identify the commanding presence among them—my aunt. Despite her petite stature, she wielded an authority that extended beyond borders, literally. As we navigated through customs I saw this tiny woman directing orders even the customs officers at their post. To my surprise, one officer graciously took charge of my luggage, and guided me to the exit, all at the subtle command of my aunt.
My aunt was an incredible woman—a savvy businesswoman, a lovingly assertive (bossy at times) wife who brought immense joy to her husband, and a compassionate soul ever ready to lend a helping hand, to whoever needed it. Her confidence was infectious, almost as her effortless laughter.
In her presence, the atmosphere was charged with joy, and her laughter became the soundtrack to our shared moments. My mom and my aunt shared tireless hours laughing at tales from their youth. It was a beautiful sight, witnessing their genuine connection and the effortless humor my aunt brought to every interaction. She had a remarkable ability to make not just my mom but everyone around her burst into laughter, myself included.
She had an extraordinary talent for finding humor in the ordinary. Her wit was unparalleled and created memories that would forever be etched in our hearts.
To my aunt, the force of nature who brought laughter, and joy to my mom. I am forever grateful. With fond memories and laughter-filled gratitude.
So, In her memory, let’s share one last laughter, \"I intend to live forever or die trying (Groucho Marx).
Bless your heart for making my mom laugh.
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