Humor, Oh Humor...Where Art Thou?

More snow is predicted for Sunday. Seriously?

It’s Friday. And the headlines read like a weather roulette wheel: Maybe a flake. Maybe more. Rain, turning to snow. How much? Nobody knows. It could be one flake or an avalanche. Anybody's guess. Literally. It would be funny if it didn’t feel like everything else.

Because it’s not just the weather. It's grandmothers stolen from their beds in the middle of the night. An arrest overseas while we politely ignore corruption at home. A war may be brewing with Iran. Scandals. Greed. Noise. Endless noise. There’s not a lot of humor in any of it.

And it reminds me of something. When Jon died, my sense of humor died with him. Not slowly. Not gradually.

Instantly. Gone. I couldn’t find funny in anything. Not a flicker. Not a crack in the wall. The well dried up. I used to be the life of the party. Now I was the one staring at the floor while everyone else laughed. And I didn’t resent them.

I just couldn’t join them. I was numb. Totally barren. And, then, there is the real and awful truth of survivor's grief. Has anyone else experienced those moments of guilt from laughter, or having a reasonable good time? Yes, it's real.

For too long it has felt like my humor has been buried under a snow pile - packed down, frozen over, hidden beneath rubble. Still there. Just unreachable. And here we are again. Snow piling up. Headlines piling up. The weight of the world pressing down.

It would be easy to believe the lightness and frolic is fatally gone. But snow melts. Rubble can be cleared. And humor, real humor, isn’t denial. It's resilience. It's spirit. It is breath returning after you’ve been underwater too long. I can feel it now. Not loud. Not performing. Just a small shake of my head at the absurdity of it all.

Maybe a flake. Maybe more. Nobody knows. And somehow, that is a little funny. Because reclaiming my humor isn’t about pretending the world isn’t heavy. It's about refusing to let the heaviness bury the best parts of me.

My laughter isn’t gone. It's just been waiting for the thaw. And I'm definitely down for that! Send in the snow plows and the torches. I'm digging my humor out of the rubble. Watch out, world. The melting has begun, even before the first snowflake arrives on Sunday.....or not.