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| Category: Emotional Healing |
Date published: October 12, 2004 |
You've watched them, laughed until you wet your pants. Who are these people who tickle our funny bones? They are comedians and clowns, and what do most have in common? A painful childhood. I know...because I became one. Oh, I wasn't the stand-up kind, one that performed publicly for money, but I did grow up to be the comedian in the family, the one who made the others laugh. I was the relief valve on the pressure cooker, I helped relieve the pressure that lay inside of my siblings, and myself, but...other times...I BLEW.
Have you ever seen a person smiling and laughing at a funeral after losing someone very dear to him or her? How awful, you might have thought, how unloving, uncaring. Others were crying, sobbing, but...this one was seen laughing. That person couldn't have loved the deceased, you might have thought. Don't be too hasty to judge, my friend.
When I lost my two brothers ten years apart, one at sixteen, the other at thirty-six, I cried until I thought there could be no more tears, but more came. The public didn't see my tears...they saw my smiling face. My heart was breaking, my face smiling, but in my private moments, I cried. When my brother Brian was killed, my body went into shock after approaching his casket and I broke out into uncontrollable shaking. My brother-in-law had to take me outside and walk with me until I calmed down. But this was before the general public arrived at the funeral...they saw my smiling face. The following day, after the viewing, friends of the family gathered at my mother's house. My sisters and I laughed until our sides hurt, and it was mainly I who led the laughter with my silliness and telling of stories...mostly recounting memories of childhood. There were so few that held laughter, but where there was found one, I brought it to the surface on that sad day. Two strangers were there, strangers to us girls. They were friends of my parents. They sat in the kitchen talking, while we carried on in the living room. I've often wondered if they were scandalized by our seemly uncaring behavior.
For a year, I cried over my brother's death, and pleaded for God to help me end my grieving. No one saw those tears of anguish. When anyone was in sight of me, I smiled. Do we judge without knowing? We certainly do.
I wrote the following two poems a few years apart. It seems the healthier I become on the inside, the less funny I become on the outside. Coincidence, I don't think so.
THE CLOWN
Laugh, clown, laugh... don't let them see the pain that lies within your heart so deep.
Dance, clown, dance...hide the sadness in your eyes and the tears at their side.
Laugh, clown, laugh... dance, clown, dance.
How great to be a clown, to hide behind the face, to laugh and dance and play the fool...you unhappy, happy clown.
BRING BACK THE CLOWN
I was the clown that hid behind the face. I always had a smile happily set in place. I laughed and danced; I played the fool. That was my role in the family pool.
As a child, I often heard. Why are you mad... why are you sad?
How could I answer, how could I say...I was a child, who cared anyway?
A mad or sad face brought a frown...I learned young to become the clown.
It was safe behind the mask; I smiled and laughed and no one asked. Why are you mad...why are you sad?
I grew up and no one could see, that smiling face, it was not me, for behind the smiles, behind the laughs, I was mad because I was sad.
The clown, where is her smile? I think I see behind her face, she is sad, I see a tear... In her eyes, do I see fear?
Will they love me if I cry? Will they care if I sigh? My sad face, will they fear? If they should see, on me a tear?
I can no longer run and hide, or play the clown, I have my pride. I've lost my mask, but they don't ask...no one care's if I am sad.
Put back your mask, we like you best, with a smile, not a frown. We don't care if you're mad or sad...bring back the clown.
*The world is filled with clowns and comedians that make us laugh, but the following statement is true in the case of many of them.
THE FACE LAUGHS...THE HEART CRIES.
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