For a period of time after Kalei’s death, grief took control of the part of my brain that normally generates a positive emotional state. Feelings such as joy, humor, happiness, etc. ceased to exist. As a result, my body was not able to produce the sound of laughter. I did not fully appreciate this (or even noticed it was gone for that matter) aspect of my grieving journey for several years.
In the beginning I did not care about how my lack of visual emotional cues (laughter, joy, etc., and on the other side of the spectrum, embarrassment, confusion, etc.) affected the people around me. Eventually some degree of empathy returned and I realized how worried my friends and family were about me. Being too wounded to do it honestly, I started faking positive emotional displays.
I would laugh at their jokes or funny stories — which seemed to make them happy — but behind the façade of ‘getting better’ my actions were very clinical in nature. I would think, Okay Lorene, smile, they are looking for that kind of response from you so paste a bloody smile on your face! Of course, that external display never came close to touching my heart or my soul. I actually learned how to wait for them to turn away so I could let my facial muscles relax. It was the same with laughter.
I would be in a social situation and think, Lorene laugh, that is the response they want so make some kind of ha, ha sound. And then I would say to myself, “I hate doing this. It feels just so wrong! I am not happy and this is not real laughter —bloody hell, I hate doing this!” And then I would spend the rest of the day hating myself and wishing everyone would leave me alone.
And then one day it happened! My body produced the sound of genuine laughter…all on its own! It had been so long since I heard (and felt) that kind of emotion coming from my body it caught me by surprise. I knew I was alone in the house but looked around anyway thinking, there has to be somebody else here!
As I pondered what had just happened, I realized I had been replaying something funny my friend Angela said to me the day before. For some reason, grief chose that moment to loosen its grip on my being and lo and behold, I was able to produce a real inside out laugh for the first time since Kalei’s death. Of course, immediately after I felt guiltier than when I faked it and swore to myself, “I will never do that again!” But, even to me, the words rang hollow.
It took a while, but I have learned how to laugh honestly, at least the kind of Lifetime Ahead honest that continues to carry a twinge or two of grief with it. I don’t know if I will ever be able to experience pure happiness or the freedom of laughter not colored with at least a tiny bit of sadness, but I do know that I appreciate joy and the sound of laugher in a way I never knew before my child’s death. Because of her, now when I find joy in a moment, I say thank-you to myself as well as those around me for letting me feel that precious gift. How do I do that? As often as I can, I do my best to leave the sound of laughter behind me.
