The Hilarity of Death by Anjelo Reyes

     It is often secretly felt: one hears of another's death--perhaps even of a loved one--and does not immediately know how to react. There is the urge to cry, but also to laugh. Why is there the urge to laugh? 

    I happened upon  this question after reading the poem, I heard a fly buzz-when I died, by Emily Dickinson. In imagining the fly buzz around a people gathered in solemnity during one's deathbed, I could not help but find the whole image somewhat comical: People trying to be serious and pay their respects--meanwhile, a fly aimlessly buzzing about and making a sound similar to that of a high-pitched fart. I thought this was so funny. 

    I imagined that if I were in that situation, I'd very much want to laugh. But not in a mean or disrespectful way. I'm just acknowledging that I would have the urge, despite the seriousness of the moment. That is why I want to question that urge. Where does it come from? What can be so funny about a moment so grave?

    To begin with, it seems that in the particular case with the fly buzzing around one's deathbed, it is funny because of its sheer irony. In the momentous event of one's death--something that people would ascribe with great importance--there comes a fly--this paragon of insignificance--which makes itself known; which buzzes in a moment of silence. Thus, in a moment so significant, insignificance prevails and it all becomes very ironic. I think this is why it is funny. 

    And yet, I thought Ms. Landres posed a very important question in light of the comical aspect of the poem: Does the comical aspect break down the frame of this serious moment? In other words, does the urge to laugh invalidate the importance and solemnity of death that people feel? Does it make death meaningless? 

    But we often have the urge to laugh during serious moments in general. I liked what Mr. Brauneis said regarding laughing and crying: they're often indistinguishable at first. Crying looks like laughter and vice versa. One could even imagine scenes where one begins laughing, but who transitions seamlessly into crying--or even wailing. Conversely, one could imagine one who cries but who starts to laugh in between sobs. It's easy to imagine this happening. It's natural. As Mr. Brauneis said, "both are forms or releasing tension." 

    And so, to Ms. Landres' question, I thought that the urge to laugh is not meant to break down the frame, so to speak, or to invalidate the severity of one's death. Really, the urge to laugh is something that is reaffirming to that frame. It shows us just how serious the moment is. It is so serious that our bodies do not always know how to react. they wants only to release tension and pain, and laughter is another way of doing that. 

    I also thought Mr. Brauneis last part about how laughter releases tension was relevant to Ms. Eustice's story about the Mexican Hat Dance. She said that her family laughed "for like ten minutes straight afterwards." Ten minutes straight. It was not only funny. It was hilarious. 

    But again, I only think it was hilarious because of how serious it was. Because her family members had already shed their tears and yet there was still tension--tension that sought release. It was released in the form of laughter. If the Hat Dance had sounded during a party, one would hear a few chuckles. But because it sounded during one's death, during this serious moment, the laughter endured for ten whole minutes. 

    In this way, I think the urge to laugh is okay. It doesn't invalidate a person's death or render it meaningless. Rather, it acknowledges how meaningful death is. It is so meaningful and serious that the body wants so badly to release emotion and tension. Of course, never laugh at a funeral because that would be terribly rude. But maybe don't feel bad if you want to burst out laughing.