In my experience, there's life — and laughter — after death

What you believe happens after you die — where you go (if you go anywhere), what life after death looks like, if there’s nothing after death — is personal. Before My Favourite Husband (MFH) died, I held onto vague beliefs that we went somewhere after our time on Earth was through. 

My dad, my mother-in-law, both sets of grandparents and friends have passed and I’ve thought, in abstract terms, they are living a peaceful existence elsewhere. I imagine their time to be content and painless. I think they are watching, not constantly, but drop by to check in on their loved ones still living. Casual guardian angels, if you will.

When MFH died, I began to give a lot more serious consideration of what happens in the afterlife. Truthfully, I wasn’t ready for our story to end but, since it did, is he pain free? Is he happy? Is he at peace? 

The night of his funeral, he visited me in a dream. In true MFH fashion, he said “I’m OK,” words which he would use in everyday life. 

It gave me peace. Maybe it was him. Maybe it was my subconscious giving me grace and peace by telling me what I needed to hear to begin taking baby steps forward. I’m not sure and I’m not sure I want to know. It’s what I needed at that time. 

And so, believing he’s OK, I began to embrace the idea that he’s still existing, albeit differently, as energy. He’s somewhere but he’s also here with me at times. 

But what does his time here, now, look like? Of course, I can’t know. I can only create what my mind wants to. And so I do.

I’m not sure he’s hanging out with me 24/7 but my life is pretty entertaining so I think he’s with me quite a bit. 

I think he’s cheered me on when I’ve made tough decisions and when I’ve pushed myself to new experiences. I imagine him to be so proud of me becoming a flight attendant — the hardest job I’ve ever trained for in my life. I can see him loving the solo travel I’ve done and will continue to do. I can hear him laugh as every new thing I try comes with curves that are often humorous, to say the least.

In my mind, his heart has hurt for me when mine has hurt. My brief, epic failed attempt at “dating” (but not really dating) a man who I liked but did not like me (as evidenced through words and actions). The loosening of some bonds of friendship. My heart imagines his heart aching when I ache from missing him. 

I know he’s proud of me and of his family as we’ve stayed in touch and become closer. A bond that could’ve unravelled has, instead, weaved tighter together. I like to envision him nodding his head as I support and am supported in return. 

Mostly, though, I can close my eyes and picture the head shake and eye roll. I can see the lips pursed together as he tries to hold his laughter inside and then those lips parting to allow big booms of laughter to explode as he watches me. You see, I’m not afraid to try. I’m not afraid to succeed or fail. I’m not afraid to let myself be part of the entertainment because I’ve learned how to laugh at myself. Laughter of joy with the discovery of life. 

I was thinking about that laughter recently. I’ve taken a couple crochet classes. I am the least crafty person I know. My mother-in-law was so talented in different crafts. And so, when we met, MFH envisioned a time that I could learn something — anything really — that could be seen as an art. I did not. Not interest, no patience. Zero desire. And I was happy living like that. Until very recently. I decided to try my hand at fibre work and I picked crochet. 

I took two lessons and, while I am not handy at stitching together yarn, I am extremely good at crafting together cuss words. I could hear his laughter as I muttered, cursed and finally ended up with something that resembles a worm. We were not supposed to make a worm. 

I’m not giving up, though, because I can and will learn how to crochet. It’ll just take me a bit longer.

And anytime I feel like giving up on this or anything else, I’ll listen for the sound of that laughter and know that he’s hanging out with me and that we are both OK.