there is this old man, right. and his wife passes away and he can’t get over the grief of her
death so takes her cremated ashes and puts them inside of a mason jar and he takes that
thing with him everywhere he goes, except the fact that he never really goes much of
anywhere. he just sits around the house with the mason jar beside him on the couch
and he watches repeat episodes of the price is right and let’s make a deal and wheel
of fortune and just game shows all day long and his eyes twinkle at the success of the
people on the television screen and he turns to his wife’s ashes and he says “oh my lord, helen – did you see that? that man just won 50,000 big ones.” and helen, of course, says
nothing, because she is just a mason jar but not the way our old man sees it. he sees this as his only opportunity to hold onto the love of his life. the best way he can keep her alive without actually keeping her alive and god damnit, there’s not always something out there that you have to go seek out and find. yes, it’s important to meet people and see new places and gain new experiences but every single minute of this life is a new experience and sometimes you just find one you like, and sometimes that one that you like is the one where you and your loved one sit on the couch and watch game shows together. and after 50 years of that, that is the only life you need. that simplistic idea of home and safety, those paintings on the wall collecting dust and that water stain on the ceiling that’s been there forever are what you’ve made and that person you are with is the one that you give to. that’s fine. be like the old man. build a boat from scratch and then sail it until it gives out. no one ever talks about laughter at a funeral but it does exist. it should exist. this is all just a glimpse at what could happen and it passes so fucking fast so you have to take a minute to look around and see where you’re at and when you are and maybe who you are if you can swing the time but it moves fast and it’s all about saying goodbye to things and sometimes doing what you can so that you don’t have to say goodbye.



Author: brice maiurro

Denver poet. Author of Stupid Flowers, out now through Punch Drunk Press.

5 thoughts on “LAUGHTER AT A FUNERAL”

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