What Did You Say?

In the car. Again.

The Babe: "When Grandma died, what did they do with the rabies?"

Me: "Rabies? What do you mean?" I'm trying to process rabies with "grave" but they are so far apart, soundwise, that I'm sure I've heard him wrong.

The Babe (no doubt thinking I have the WORST hearing ever) repeats his question three more times, each time rephrasing the statement for the "dumb" in the car*, before Hooman pipes up.

Hooman (trying to be helpful): "Mom. He's saying "rabies"."

Me (totally confused): "Honey, Grandma didn't have rabies. What made you think that?" I don't think my chuckling was audible enough for the boys to hear it**.

The Babe has NO EARTHLY IDEA what made him think that. We must have had some random conversation about something, somewhere being rabid while Mom was sick and he must have assigned that illness to her. Obviously we weren't very clear that Mom had cancer.

Then Hooman chimes in again: "Yeah. When you have rabies, it makes you rapid. Like the Tasmanian Devil. You know, all crazy, and zzzzzzzzzzzooooooooooooooooooooommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm?" He's making hand motions that would put a mime to shame.

I'm now full-out chuckling. Took everything I had to stop the laughter to let him know it's "rabid", with a "b". It doesn't make you fast. It makes you drool.

Then we were all laughing.

This moment could have become one of tears and sadness and a mixture of loneliness and missing Mom. Instead, it developed into a comedy of errors and language that added levity to our afternoon commute.

I can't even express how thankful I am that we have gotten to this point. And how grateful I am that God has carried us here.

And just in case you were wondering...yes there IS laughter after death. It just takes a little time.



*Me, of course.

**Then again, my hearing HAS been called into question more than once recently.....