Laughter is the Best Medicine

It embarrassing, wrong, and downright rude to laugh at a funeral.

But I did it, on purpose at Dad's funeral.

Before you judge my insolence, I'll tell you about my dad.

Dad's greatest joy was to make people laugh.

He had a quick joke, a funny song, or a spontaneous belly dance

if that's what made you break into laughter at his expense.

Dad knew how to poke fun at himself. He was also quick to forgive,

share kind words, give a hug, and let you know he cared.

At the cancer ward, he was known as singing Sam. He'd visit the patients

and sing, "You're so beautiful to me." Then, he'd be hooked up for

his own chemotherapy.

I was guided to write the kind of eulogy dad would have wanted.

At the wake, I recounted funny stories dad told about his

brothers and sisters. Our family shed tears of joy that night.

You see, dad made people laugh even at his funeral.

Dad had the kind of send-off he would have loved.

I heard him laughing that night.