Daughter of Laughter

Today would have been my mom's 66th birthday. She died just three months after her 49th. Her first grandchild was born a month later.

When I think of my mom, I think of big dangley clip-on earrings. I think of painted fingernails and tea with honey. I remember homemade birthday cakes that she and my dad painstakingly decorated with their Wilton decorator set. Every Saturday night we had homemade pizzas. Each of us got to make our own with ground beef and onions or mushrooms and olives or just plain cheese, the way I still like my pizza best.

One of my favorite memories, though, is of Mom's famous giggle fits. Every once in a while, something would strike her funny bone and she'd start to laugh and laugh and laugh some more. It was infectious. We would all start laughing, too. Then the kids, my brother, sister, and I, would all gather around and sing-song together, "Mama's having a giggle fit. Mama's having a giggle fit." Usually, our teasing would just set off another new wave of uncontrollable laughter.

I often wonder what heaven is like, whether Mom can see us here on earth or maybe we're already there with her. In any case, I like to think of her in heaven just laughing and laughing and laughing, so much that we all can't help but join in with her.