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A joke I'm proud of

A couple of years ago right after losing Aidan, we were holed up in my mother in-law’s condo apartment down the road, dazed, traumatized, and not yet ready to return to our home. We had the priest come over to help us plan the funeral mass.

He arrives in his street clothes while my mother in-law is out running a few errands. You have to understand, she is a very old-fashioned Irish Catholic raised in an ethnically exclusive parish in Detroit. Even with the pedophilia scandal, and even with the virulent anti-semitism of Father Coughlin during the Depression when she grew up, she has a deep, unshaken reverence for priests. She arrives, was unaware the priest would be visiting, and so is somewhat surprised. But luckily, she never goes anywhere outside her bedroom without being impeccably dressed, complete with tasteful necklace, so she’s good. As always, she’s prepared for company. After the introductions and pleasantries are over, she sits down on the couch with the priest. We need to resume the grim discussion to plan the funeral.

Okay, so that’s the setup. I took a moment to ask Aidan what he thought, and he said totally, go for it.

I say: “Yes, Justine. We were so very… gratified… Father Fleming was able to fit us in and stop by to help us. He’s been able to share some… thoughts… with us. Some very insightful thoughts. Yes… we were just talking about how very shabby your apartment is.”

She SCREAMS, and he leaps off the couch and cries out NOOOOO!!!!

Okay, so not very original, but it did the trick, like setting off a bomb. Fair to say everyone felt a bit lighter after that, and I felt my son in the room, laughing.

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