Crack Kills

Crack Kills
The ability to laugh in the face of adversity has saved my sanity. As I have grown older, I have observed this family characteristic in my mother, brothers, and children. This strait has reared its head in the most unusual places and times. Unfortunately, some people may not take this sense of humor as a particularly ‘loving’ strait.
The hottest December in decades was the day my favorite sister-in-law was buried. Olivia fell asleep the day after thanksgiving, never to awake in this world. I was standing in the background watching Olivia’s grown children, my nieces and nephews grieve of their mother’s untimely death, a profound sense of regret came over me. I was consumed with all of my lost tomorrows. Spiraling down into the pit of despair was not where I wanted to go and cause the family more anguish. I cry real ugly, which alone is enough of a reason not to let go. Olivia and I were employed by the school district and planned a glorious week long spring break in Jamaica. Breathing deeply before the sorrows overtook me, I turned away from the group. I spotted a most unique tree. Stopping at the foot of the reddish brown, with vanilla beige bark tree I looked up. The picturesque scene of the beautiful blue sky peeking out between the bare limbs made me marvel at the joy that can be found in the midst of despair.
“Mommie?” My grown son, Jadon said, with his inherited unusual sense of humor. I knew he was getting ready to say something silly or funny, because he never calls me Mommie, at least not in public and not since he was much younger.
Not moving my head I shifted my eyes in his direction answering, “Yes, son!” I whispered with equal sarcasm.
“Crack Kills!” Jadon whispered softly with his deep masculine voice.
Turning to face him I saw this mischievous look on his face. A look that was all to familiar that landing him in hot water more than once.
Jadon continued, “The man bent over, I saw his crack and it damn near killed me!” Never breaking a smile, “See the grave digger, or whatever he is; his pants are falling off, showing his entire butt crack!” This time he chuckled, as he saw the expression on my face as I received a full view of the man he was talking about.
I ran to the limousine, being notorious for my loud laughter, I was really trying to hurry before I was consumed with fits of laughter. The door was locked. The driver saw me dashing to the car. She saw me dashing to the car, but it was too late. I ran to side of the car where no one could see me, spitting into the handkerchief Jadon had given me. My son, the Nutt, was following me as I crunched down out of view and sound, hopefully.
“Oh come on Mom, even Aunt Olivia would have found that funny.” Jadon whispered as he squatted down beside me.
I couldn’t argue with that statement. Olivia would have run from the gravesite, laughing her head off! Hoping people would think she was overcome with grief, not laughter, just like I had to do.