My Summer Stories: Laughter Dropped By
It was a wonderful summer day! My friends and I had met at a local restaurant to eat lunch. And we all know when friends come together Laughter soon shows up invited or not. Nothing out of the ordinary. We sat down for lunch and as I expected, Laughter met us there. During a break from all of our eating and laughing I said to one friend who happened to be a nurse. "I was at my dad's house yesterday and he kept sliding over."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"I'm not sure, but will you come with me to take a look at him?"
We gathered our belongings and headed for the door. We jumped in the car and headed down the road to my dad's house. Laughter hitched a ride with us. Still talking and laughing the entire trip. However, laughter took a back seat when, as we approached my father's house, there with lights whirling and sirens blasting sat three rescue squads. As I tried to jump out of a moving car that was not going fast enough for me, my other friend who was in the backseat grabbed me and held on to me for dear life. Pulling into the driveway my feet hit the ground before the car stopped. It was the longest run for such a short distance I had ever made.
Entering the front door, there on the floor was my dad! People pumping his chest. My friend the nurse walked in and turned around and left. I knew what that meant. He was gone. I ran outside dropping to my knees, screamming and crying! While at that very moment, my son who was at school burst into tears to the point of no one being able to console him. (I later learned this from his teacher who told me after I shared with her my father had died). She said, "that's amazing ... he felt your pain."
In the days that followed, I didn't tell my son that his grandfather had died. He was the only grandson at the time and was, as far as my dad was concerned, "the heir to the throne." I didn't know how to tell him and everytime I thought about doing it, I burst into tears. The day of the funeral arrived and still I had not said a word. After my tearful shower, I mustered every ounce of courage I had and asked God to help me.
I called my son to come into the room. He sat down on the bed and I said, "Grandpa went to heaven to be with Jesus. He looked at me with those huge brown eyes. I felt my strengh begin to be tested. God said, "Go get a shoe box with a lid on it." A shoe box I thought, for what? As I told my son how grandpa had gone to heaven to be with Jesus it was as though I was no longer talking. I took the shoe box and begin to describe the funeral and the casket which would look like this, a shoe box with a lid. I heard myself say, "And then after we all have said our goodbyes, yhey'll close the casket." And I demonstrated on the shoe box. ("God, you're so creative," I thought.)
I took a deep breathe and waited for tears from my son. He blinked. Silence. I said, "Do you have any questions?" He said, "Yes." "What is it?" I asked as I took a deep breathe. He said, "How are they gonna get Grandpa in this shoe box?" I burst into laughter with tears streamming down my face! Laughter had dropped by without calling and that was alright with me! My heart took flight with joy knowing that my son, my father and I all had been and would continue to well taken care by God and by my good friend, Laughter!