A Series of Bungee Cords: Part Three

by Fiona Landers

I just got the fifth installment of my bereavement mailing (yaaaaay). A bereavement mailing is a monthly letter of support (cool kids call it a “grief sheet”) you receive in the mail, from the hospice program your loved one died with. Previous grief sheets have included suggestions like:

• Go for a walk (that’s fine)
• Keep a journal (okay)
• Keep a “joke book”. (WHAT). “Start writing down jokes that you find humorous.”. Like everyone gets to be a terrible comedian when they’re grieving? I like to think of the least funny person in the world trying to remember a Mo’Nique joke, getting it wrong, and scribbling it down in their joke book: “Do white people say dick and black people say cock or is it reversed? Oh, Mo’Nique you just tickle me.”.
• Make a new friend! (“Hi my name is Grief Monster, I’m miserable and unstable, wanna be my NEW FRIEND?”)
• Make a plan to do something fun with someone you enjoy! (“Nitrous with Pam! Pam, is Wednesday good?”)
• Start a new hobby! (“Isn’t my fucking “joke book” enough?”)
• Oh fuck you! (“Finally! Thank you for your honesty.”).

This grief sheet starts off by saying:

Dear Ms. Landers:

A highly respected writer on the subject of bereavement, Colin Murray Parkes, says that there are FOUR PHASES OF MOURNING:

Phase 1: Numbness

Phase 2: Yearning/Pining

Phase 3: Disorganization and Despair

Phase 4: Reorganized Behavior

And then it asks you questions like “Does this description match your experience?”, “Which phase do you find yourself in at this time?”, “Are you sometimes in more than one phase at a time?”. Sure, Colin, okay, feels like you’re taking some broad strokes on this subject but okay. I decided to write back to my Bereavement Program Coordinator.

Dear Mrs. Bereave:

You’re in luck, I too am a highly respected writer and I will take a stab at this mourning bullshit, why not? I GOT FOUR PHASES TOO, LADY and I haven’t even been mourning for six months yet! I’m great!

Phase 1: Being Weird at Parties: Drinking for Two (yourself and the deceased ;))

Hey there guess what? Someone you love died and you’re in phase one of mourning. Sure you’re in shock but that doesn’t mean you can’t knock back margs with the best of them. Besides total utter shock you may be feeling a sense of relief because your loved one isn’t in pain anymore and you feel alive and lucky to have a body that breathes so you should definitely celebrate that. You also may have taken a real shower for the first time in months and it might have felt like a new world was opening up. Yes go to that party, gurrl! Go to that party and completely forget how to communicate with humans, you’ve earned it. A great way to deal with the fact that all of your communication/social skills have been buried with the deceased is to keep drinking margs and steal someone else’s cake at the party. They never saw it coming and fuck them they’re fine.

Phase 2: Crying into a Burrito

Hey. I know you’re hungover, so here’s a burrito to cry into. Death is tough. Parties are tough. Being a person in the world is tough. Let this burrito be your home. Your safe-zone. This burrito gets you more than anyone else does right now. You can even just eat half now, wrap it up and put it in the fridge and then guess what? That half of a burrito will BE THERE FOR YOU WHEN YOU NEED IT. No one knows what to say to you and you don’t know what to say to anyone else so just let the burrito carry all the burdens. The burrito can handle it. Do you have lines to learn for an important show? Run lines with the burrito. The burrito believes in you as a performer. Do you need a hug but are deeply afraid of human contact? Unwrap that burrito and get in there. Nuzzle your nose into that tortilla blanket and let your salty tears mix in with the beans and then eat the beans. Are you lost wandering by the beach? Don’t worry, crawl up to the top of the burrito, the burrito will carry you, the burrito was carrying you the whole time on top of its little burrito head.

Phase 3: Thinking About Maybe Fucking Someone You Probably Shouldn’t

Is that greasy guy at the deli (the one with the Ratt tattoo) starting to look better to you? Well then congrats you’re in phase three of mourning. The mindset of phase three is “LET’S MAKE SOME MISTAKES. LIKE SEXUALLY.”. Other examples of the deli guy could be/aren’t limited to:

• The waiter at the French place that was rude to you.
• Gas station teen.
• Record store teen.
• Bus boy who has been nice to you for six years.
• Neighbor who is always carrying bagels.
• Various comedians.
• ONE comedian.
• Lesbian with cool hair.
• Barista with black hair.
• Smoothie-maker with blonde hair.
• Mail lady who reminds you of Grandma, but young.
• Mermaid you had a dream about.
• Anyone with a British accent. Or anywhere from the U.K. Or Portland. Or Nashville.

In A Streetcar Named Desire, Tennessee Williams writes about sex being the opposite of death. Phase three is some shit like that.

Phase 4: Who the fuck knows is it over yet where’s my joke book?

Here are some jokes from my joke book:

• Did you hear the one about the mortality? What? Knock knock. Who’s there? Mortality. Mortality who? GOD??? hahaha, perfect joke.
• Knock knock. Who’s there? NOT DAD. hahaha, great joke.
• Knock knock. Who’s there? Record store teen. Uh oh watch out I might take you out for a milkshake! hahaha, fun, powerful female joke.
• Knock knock. Who’s there? That was just me knocking on the table. ‘Nother margarita POR FAVOR! hahaha, elaborate joke, worth it.
• Knock knock. Who’s there? Not me, I didn’t take your cake. hahaha, strong character choice, funny joke ‘cause it’s true.
• Knock knock. Who’s there? It’s Mrs. Bereave.

(Looks away) Oh. Hi, Mrs. Bereave.

Why are you making fun of the joke book? It’s meant to help people who have experienced a loss.

(Looks away) I know. I’m sorry, Mrs. B.

Also, we put a lot of other suggestions in the bereavement mailings, why are you so fixated on the joke book? It’s one of many suggestions.

(Looks up) I can’t stop thinking about boring people writing shitty jokes. It makes me really happy.

(Puts her hand on my shoulder, gently) Well, then I’m glad the bereavement mailings have been helpful to you.