An (in)appropriate sense of humour

Everyone liked my Dad. He was a friendly guy and got on with everyone. He had a great sense of humour and known for being cheerful. My Dad liked a good action movie, but as we were growing up in the 1980/90s we always watched The Golden Girls, The Cosby Show and Roseanne on tv together as a family, which were my favourite tv shows back then. My Dad then developed a liking for The Simpsons and, as I quite often manage to relate daily life to a scene from an episode of Friends, my Dad would somehow do that with The Simpsons.

When my Dad was diagnosed with his illness and weakened by his chemotherapy, my brother bought him a big, fat old fashioned joke book to cheer him up. Oh how we dreaded my Dad reading us joke after awful joke – I guess the oldies are the goodies! And it was lovely to see my Dad with his specks at the end of his nose chuckling in the corner whilst amusing himself with this giant joke book. Surely, at his age, he should have been reading a broadsheet newspaper, but a joke book suited him much more.

My Dad was in good spirits throughout his two years of treatment and liked to talk with the nurses and volunteers at the cancer unit. He was just a friendly, positive guy. He definitely passed his good humour traits to both me and my brother and I thought I’d make this post lighthearted and share some recent anecdotes that have helped us get through this awful time:

My Dad received the news that he only had weeks to live on my mum’s 70th birthday in early December. He then went into the hospice on my birthday in January. We joke that he always had to steal the limelight!

Whilst arranging for the flowers for his funeral I requested a ‘DAD’ floral display. The florist quoted a per letter cost, to which I jokingly asked my Mum, “Shall we call him Pa?” For the record, my Mum found it funny!

We were discussing costs with the funeral director, who made a statement about waiting for confirmation of a quote saying, “if he comes back…” to which I interjected, “who, my Dad?” That was also taken lightly and the funeral director asked if my Dad would have liked that kind of humour. We were certain that he would.

So, I think my Dad would like it that we’re continuing with good humour in his name. For now perhaps only my Mum, brother, husband or I could make light of recent events, as no-one else would dare(!), but I guess this is a way of getting through the pain.