I can only very rarely, even in the worst of the worst cases, my own humor, irony, and my desire to suppress after a punch line. If I'm honest, I manage is basically not used. In a spontaneous impulsive moment of honesty, I have laid upon me to live the wit to win the upper hand. The next moment, I am ashamed. Then, perhaps only seconds after I felt the Fall, I know it was in order and make my quick peace with myself and my mischievous self. In many, the most extreme cases, it is even one set of pointings, the cramped, loosen deeply sad situation for a few seconds can, a few smiles on some previously troubled, tearful faces conjure.
Although it is not long, not so long ago, so I know already quite sure I will never forget in my life the moment when I find my mother at the deathbed of my father was sitting back, trying in the just last night, just a few hours earlier was dead, and at the request of my caring mother to eat the bread, which she had prepared that morning still believing he would only sleep. Devastated and with eyes full of Tears of love and loss, we looked at him and I suddenly blurted out: "Now eat his son away from him even his last bread." Knee-jerk, I looked to my mother and she was afraid to have violated in their grief. However, I saw to my relief, in a face which would allow themselves not to smile, but a pulse following the angle of the mouth for a minute, but honest and in a strange way easier now moved to the top. Maybe she has not even really noticed it myself, but I'm sure it has taken her for a moment the load. And I'm sure my father, he would have noticed it can also just something, in this Moment would have laughed. And for that I love him.
I'm not talking about gallows humor or the compulsive urge of a dumb spirit to Witzigsein. I'm talking about a kind of seriousness, which gives expression and freedom, honor in small oases of calm in a kind of cease-fire of the overwhelming importance, only to just this in reverse. I speak of humor of an often melancholic base requires, perhaps especially the breaks web when others are silent thoughts. It's not a question here to present someone to undermine even the seriousness of a situation. It has nothing to do with the sledgehammer of insensitivity and even not be here - use dirty language - quite wrongly viewed as bad.
It's just a little matter to save themselves. Before the dark thoughts and the self-nourishing doubts that will make your heart with every turn in the downward motion of heavy to himself. It is perhaps the last anchor of the non-believing people before one of the vortex of the finiteness of all stifling indifference can fall prey to. For although I personally am absolutely sure that everything ends with physical death, I thought of a consolation that I even in the face of my greatest terror myself and the memory of the beloved man, my father never would have lost.
Maybe I would not think so, if my father in this respect, although would have been less aggressive than I am, fundamentally different thinking. But I know he would have seen it myself so has seen how I felt and still feel.
The funeral takes nothing and no one, no joke and no consolation. But the proximity to a man who has taken his own life with humor, bright and sunny although it is not always easy, and was cheerful, is all the greater if one allows it, to remember the exact moments when one has weggelacht shared the worries. And you may believe me or not, who cares lose some of its fear.
even death.
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