Experts say there are 5 stages of grief after someone close to you dies. They are (and different sources may list them differently, but general consensus on Web searches were) denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. In said Web searches I never found laughter. Yes, laughter. However that is something I experienced at my own Mom’s funeral many years ago.

It was a late spring day just outside of Boston where we had my Mom’s funeral at her church. Though I lived close by, I had only been to her church a few times, as she often came to my church with me. The pastor of my church, Father Joe whom I wrote about after he himself had died, was awesome, and his sermons were always very real and relatable to me. He was also very helpful to me in understanding the logistics of a funeral, especially the “law” at the time that only one person could give a eulogy at a funeral. As this was over 20 years ago and in the midst of the sexual abuse scandal in the Archdiocese of Boston, this was very tough for me to digest. I opted to allow my sister to give the eulogy, but had a lot of input into it.

Where I had been to funerals ever since I was a child, this time it was me sitting in the first pew. We were guided through this by the church’s funeral coordinator and the funeral home that was extremely helpful – they had handled funerals for the likes of former House Speaker Tip O’Neill, so the Maddaloni family had nothing to worry about. As it was a funeral mass, it went through the regular Catholic mass sequence, then it came to the sermon by the priest. As I had only been to a few masses at my Mom’s church, I didn’t have a strong memory of the mass there leading up to her funeral. I had met the priest a few days earlier when he gave my Mom Last Rights. We felt bad for him at the time as he was an older priest and showed some discomfort after ascending the 3 flights of stairs to her apartment.

As the priest started his sermon, I was struggling to understand him. He had a very gravely, raspy voice. I knew he didn’t know my Mom personally, so I wasn’t listening for specific stories, rather a basic understanding of what he was saying. I clearly wasn’t alone, as I looked to my fiancée (now wife) and sister who also had a look of query as to what he was staying. Then it happened - a thought popped into my head that I couldn’t get out: his voice reminded me of Johnny Most, the legendary announcer for the Boston Celtics basketball team. It was right after that the next thought popped into my head that I couldn’t shake: the famous final play from the 1965 NBA Eastern Finals where the Celtics beat the Philadelphia 76’ers after Celtic John Havlicek stole the ball as the clock ticked to zero, giving the Celtics the win. Where the play itself was famous, the announcing by Johnny Most was legendary, with him screaming, “Havlicek stole the ball!”

For context, here’s a video of the game play and call by Johnny Most embedded below, or click this link to view the video.

At that point I lost it and started laughing. I tried to hold back the physical laughing but I could only hold back the sound. I hunched over to try to hold back but couldn’t and was physical shaking. My fiancée and sister looked over and wondered what was up and I was able to muster whispering, “Havlicek stole the ball!” to which they started giggling, but to no degree I was in utter laughter. My Aunt then looked over, wondering what the heck was going on, but in true Italian form, she remained calm and didn’t get into the middle of this. I eventually composed myself as his sermon ended, not remembering a word of it. But remembering that basketball play a few years before I was born helped me get through the funeral and the day.

Why Am I Writing This, And Now?

First I will address the timing of sharing this story. I never did tell my Aunt why I did what I did, as she likely thought like others at the funeral that I had simply broken down crying. I realized this as others consoled me after the funeral mass, and I never told anyone about this. I also promised myself I would never tell this story to my Aunt at all out of respect to her and would not share it until after she died. She left us a few years ago, and to say I miss her dearly is a gross understatement.

Recently people close to me have died or came close to it, and all of whom were at my Mom’s funeral. My good friend Peter died late last year after a long illness, in recent weeks my cousin Dinita died also after a long illness and last week my good friend Eric died unexpectedly. All of them live hours away from me, so though we were not physically close we kept in touch in varying ways over the years, but in hindsight it was not enough. I also had a scare with my good friend RJ as he woke up one morning finding out he had cancer, and just the other day he called to tell me after insanely intense treatment he is cancer-free. Fortunately he and I got together recently after too many years just before he got his latest great news.

As their families and my own are going through the stages of grief, I am sharing this story – with them and with the world – for their benefit and my own and to let them know there could be a moment of laughter among the pain, and that it is ok.

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This is from The Hot Iron, a journal on business and technology by Mike Maddaloni.

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