On a rare movie night, Brian and I watched “Legends of the Fall” a few weeks ago. I wish someone had warned me how intense and unrelenting that movie is. (All I remember hearing was how hot Brad Pitt is as Tristan.) It reminded me of seeing “Miss Saigon” on Broadway, like someone was beating me over the head and saying, “Be sad! Be very sad!” We were thankful after watching it that we’re both on medication.

The other day, Brian made some reference to the song “Cat’s in the Cradle,” about the father who has no time for his son, and then the son has no time for the father. Then he laughed and said, “We could listen to that song and then watch ‘Legends of the Fall’! Last one to commit suicide wins!” I laughed until I had tears running down my face.

This kind of dark humor is necessary to support life in the world we live in today. I’m convinced of it. Like the Jimmy Buffet song says: “If we couldn’t laugh, we would all go insane.” It’s an important mechanism in child-rearing, and in getting older, and even in dealing with death. When we found out, finally, that my mom’s cancer was terminal, the doctor told us that they would just stop the chemo treatments. Mom had been so upset by losing her hair, so I said, “At least your hair will grow back.” She barked out a laugh and said, “Yeah, just in time.”

Mom’s also the one who used to laugh at news reports about “mortality rates” in this or that country. “Face it, folks,” she would holler at the television. “The mortality rate is 100 percent! We’re all going!”

Not long after Brian and I got married, I had a series of panic attacks, terrified that he would die suddenly. I talked to my teacher at healing school about it. He said, “What if you were to just acknowledge that you will lose him–or that he’ll lose you–because it could happen that way, too. How will that change the way you live your life now?”

At the time, I assumed it was a rhetorical question, since the answer seemed obvious to me. I’d be nicer to him. I’d hold precious the time we have together, instead of wasting it on crap that doesn’t matter. I found out later that my teacher had wanted an actual answer from me, and I’d remained silent. But I still got the message.

So, yesterday I was listening to a very mellow, sad sounding song on the CD player, and I made a joke to Brian that we could listen to it, then “Cat’s in the Cradle,” and then watch “Legends of the Fall” again. Brian said, “I’ll just start dousing myself with gasoline now.”

And we laughed.

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