The quality I have historically valued most in the friends I have chosen has been a great sense of humor.  I can very honestly say that most of my closest inner circle of buddies are hilarious.  I mean, pee in your pants, tears rolling down your face, stomach hurts so bad - kind of hilarious.  I have valued hilarity above all else in life - more than loyalty, kindness (in fact, I generally like my hilarious friends to have some sass), or empathy.  If you could make me laugh, I'm not sure I really cared how good of a person you were.  If you could make me laugh, chances are I liked you.

In my darkest days, the last thing on earth I wanted was to laugh.  In fact, I found it fairly insulting when people would try and make me laugh or laugh in front of me.  Nothing was funny anymore.  The ease of my former laughter was gone.  Another reason I couldn't be around friends - they were just too funny.  I spent some time re-evaluating my priorities - was funny really the most important quality a person can have?  I needed empaths, deep souls, spiritual beings who understood pain and loss....not funny people.

Nothing was funny - for a long, long time.  Really.  Nothing.

As it turns out, most of my funny friends have much more depth than I probably ever appreciated.  They did such a good job showing their compassionate sides that, over time, I actually forgot how funny they were.  They put their comedy routines on hold for a bit while I got my basic self back together.  A slow, agonizing and ongoing process.

And, as I have begun to emerge from the fog of the deepest, most painful grief, their senses of humor have reappeared - helping to guide me back into the light  - helping me to take life a little less seriously and reminding me of the importance of laughter.

To my funny friends (you know who you are!) - thank you for reminding me how to laugh.  I love you.

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