When I die I need one of you to get up at my funeral and do a knock-knock joke.
Knock knock!
Who’s there?
Not Rudy!
And whoever doesn’t laugh gets kicked out by the bouncer. Also, I want a bouncer at my funeral.
If I am fortunate enough to be missed by you try and remember that I love the sound of laughter. Maybe, just maybe, when you hear yourself laughing – especially at something wildly inappropriate – you’ll think of me and I’ll seem not so far away at least for a moment.
And please, somebody, anybody, EVERYBODY – after I die touch Todd’s butt and whisper, that’s from Rudy.
Now everyone reading this who knows a guy named Todd is gonna make things real awkward one day. Everyone in hell will be all, why is Rudy always laughing? It’ll be grand.
Don’t worry, this post isn’t some weird way of me telling you that I have some terminal anything. My wife was playing some heartbreaking song about grief by some guy we’re going to see tonight while promising not to laugh at me when I cry at tonight’s show. It made me think about the people I love who have died. But it also made me think about my own death and how fucking hilarious it would be if someone told a knock-knock joke.
I know it’s bad form to some to seemingly make light of death. Especially if they happen to be newly grieving. And if you’re among that group, my heart truly goes out to you. I just happen to believe that laughter is every bit as valid as music, or movies, or the arts at helping process that grief.
Laughter can be love brought to life.
I am serious about that knock-knock joke, by the way. If one of you doesn’t step up I will be pissed.
