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Sometimes,grief stiffens our sense of humour,but it doesn’t actually kill it.

In my life,and in the customs of the community I come from, death is a solemn affair.

So,when my associate colleague died,I had to travel to Rwanda for funeral.

That was not so long ago,and there is still a lot of grief clouding my heart for her. R.I.P.

But something funny happened during her funeral service that I find worth sharing with my readers.

We were all sitting solemnly inside a church when I heard the church door open with a hideous creak.

Quick footsteps hurried along the wooden tiled floor.

An exasperated young man looked around briefly and then sat next to me.

He folded his hands and placed them on his lap.

His eyes were brimming with tears.

He began to sniffle.

“I’m late,” he explained, though no explanation was necessary.

After several eulogies from her close friends and family, he leaned over and
commented, “Why do they keep calling
Mary by the name of Margaret?”

“Because, that was her name, Margaret.
Never Mary, no one called her Mary,'” I
whispered.

I wondered why this person couldn’t have
sat on the other side of the church.

He interrupted my grieving with his tears and
fidgeting. Who was this stranger anyway?

“Isn’t this the Lutheran church?”

“No, the Lutheran church is across the
street.”

“Oh.”

“I believe you’re at the wrong funeral, Sir.” I volunteered,if only to shut him up.

Then something very strange happened to me;
The solemness of the occasion mixed with
the realisation of the man’s mistake bubbled up inside me and came out as laughter.

I cupped my hands over my face, hoping it would be interpreted as sobs.

The creaking pew gave me away.

Sharp looks from other mourners only made the situation seem more hilarious.

Was I becoming neurotic or what?

I peeked at the bewildered, misguided man seated beside me.

He was laughing too, as he glanced around, deciding it was too late for an uneventful exit.

I imagined everybody laughing,and that made it even more hilarious.

Grief can sometimes bring out the worst of us.

At the final ‘Amen,’ we both darted out a door
and into the parking lot.

“I do believe we’ll be the talk of the town,” he smiled.

He said his name was Rick and, since he had
missed his aunt’s funeral, asked me out for
a cup of coffee.

That afternoon began a lifelong journey for me with this man who attended the wrong funeral, but was in the right place.

A year after our meeting, he invited me to his wedding and they were married at a country church where he was the assistant pastor.

This time we both arrived at the same church, right on time.

Later,after the ceremony,he sidled up to me with his new bride and was laughing even before he grabbed my hand for an enthusiastic handshake.

“I want you to meet my new bride before the ink settles on our marriage certificate so that you can do this one thing for me…..”

“Anything you ask,I’ll do it for you”,I replied,not really sure what he was going to ask of me.

“Do you think I attended the “right wedding”? He ventured sheepishly as his new bride dropped her eyes in surprise and shame,not knowing what this was all about.

“Let me see”,I said as I lifted the bride’s veil feigning close scrutiny of her face. “I’m afraid you attended the wrong wedding again,but I guess the bride is the right one!”

“Come on!”,he cried out as he grabbed me by the shoulders wrestling me to the ground in mirth of uproarious laughter.

In my time of sorrow, God gave me
laughter.

In place of loneliness and grief, God gave
me laughter again and new love for a stunning young family for friends .

Bernard Wainaina is an Independent Agribusiness Advisor and CEO at Profarms Consultants®,Nairobi,Kenya.

He mainly works with Agribusiness Youth Groups in Eastern African Region.

Just some random thoughts that came to my mind….©Profarms’ Random Thoughts®

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