Laughing Through Grief: How Humor Helps Us Heal

Laughing Through Grief: Benefits of Humor Therapy

Categories: Humor Resources - Humor

Grief and laughter can feel like opposites.
One moment you’re fighting back tears; the next, someone tells a story about your loved one that’s so perfectly them you can’t help but laugh. For a second you might even feel guilty: How can I be laughing at a time like this?
But therapists and researchers are increasingly clear: when it’s gentle and genuine, humor can be part of how we heal. Humor therapy, laughter yoga, and even grief-focused comedy workshops are giving people new ways to breathe again after loss.
This post is an invitation to explore the lighter side of grief—not to make loss smaller, but to make it more bearable.

Why laughter shows up in grief

Grief isn’t one emotion; it’s a whole weather system. In the middle of the storm, humor can act like a brief patch of sunlight.
Researchers who study bereavement describe humor as a “double-edged” part of grieving: it can trigger waves of sadness and help people cope and find meaning, sometimes in the very same moment.
A few reasons laughter can help:

Physical relief. Laughing changes our breathing, relaxes muscles, and can temporarily reduce stress hormones. Over time, humor-based interventions have been linked to reduced anxiety and depression and improved quality of life.
Perspective. A shared joke, especially about everyday “real life” moments, can help the loss feel less like an endless wall and more like one part of a bigger story.
Connection. When a room full of grieving people laughs at the same memory, they’re not just laughing—they’re agreeing: Yes. That’s who they were. We remember together.

Humor doesn’t cancel out grief. It just gives your heart a moment to rest.

What therapists say about humor and loss

Many grief counselors see humor as one tool in the “grief toolbox,” alongside tears, storytelling, ritual, and silence. Used thoughtfully, it can:

strengthen the bond between therapist and client
help people talk about painful moments that might otherwise feel too heavy
offer a sense of control, especially when everything else feels unpredictable

At the same time, professionals also offer clear cautions:

Humor should never be forced. If a joke feels like it’s being used on someone rather than shared with them, it can feel invalidating or cruel.
Humor can be a mask. Some people use constant joking to avoid feeling anything. Therapists look for patterns—are you also able to cry, be quiet, or speak honestly when you need to?
Different styles land differently. Gentle, affectionate humor about the person who died is very different from harsh sarcasm or mocking someone’s pain.

A simple rule of thumb: in grief, good humor punches up or sideways (at the absurdity of life), not down at the person who’s hurting.

Laughter yoga: structured silliness that helps

Laughter yoga sounds strange at first—people gathering to laugh on purpose, often without jokes. But there’s growing evidence that this kind of guided, playful practice can improve mood, reduce anxiety and depression, and support overall wellbeing, especially in older adults.
What it usually looks like:

Short, gentle breathing exercises
Simulated laughter (fake at first, often real by the end)
Light movement or stretching
Eye contact and playful exercises in a group setting

Some facilitators specifically offer sessions for people facing illness, caregiving, or bereavement. Others simply welcome anyone who’s in a hard season and needs a safe, structured way to release tension. People often report:

feeling lighter and more relaxed afterward
a sense of “permission” to experience joy again
comfort in being with others who understand pain, even if everyone’s story is different

Laughter yoga doesn’t ask you to forget your loss. It simply gives your body and mind a chance to remember what laughter feels like.

Comedy workshops and “laughing from the scars”

Around the world, there’s a small but growing movement using comedy as a way to work with painful experiences—sometimes including grief and trauma.
Examples include:

“Comedy on Referral” in the UK, where survivors of trauma (including abuse) are referred by health professionals to structured stand-up comedy courses. Participants work with a comedian to shape their stories into jokes, reclaiming power and voice over what happened to them.
Comedy-therapy trainings and groups, where clinicians learn to use improv and stand-up techniques to help clients explore shame, loss, and identity in a playful, contained way.

These spaces are very different from just “making fun” of something painful. Good programs:

are led or supervised by mental health professionals or trained facilitators
emphasize consent, safety, and readiness—participants are usually already in recovery, not in the first raw weeks of grief
frame comedy as one tool, not a replacement for therapy, medication, or other supports

The goal isn’t to make tragedy “funny.” It’s to say: If I can tell this story on my own terms, maybe it doesn’t own me anymore.

Healthy humor vs. hiding behind jokes

If you’re grieving, how do you know whether humor is helping—or just covering things up?
Here are a few gentle signposts. You might be using humor in a healthy way if:

You can laugh and cry; one doesn’t cancel out the other.
The humor feels loving—especially when it’s about the person who died.
Jokes create connection instead of shutting people out.
After a laugh, you feel a bit softer or more open, not numb.

It may be worth slowing down and checking in with yourself (or a therapist) if:

You joke constantly so you never have to feel sad or vulnerable.
You feel uncomfortable when others show emotion, so you try to “lighten the mood” immediately.
Loved ones tell you they feel dismissed or hurt by your humor.
You never talk seriously about the loss at all.

If you recognize yourself in the second list: there’s no shame in that. It just might be a sign your grief needs more room than jokes alone can give it.

Simple ways to invite laughter into your grief

You don’t have to join a workshop or start doing stand-up. Here are some gentle, real-world ways to let humor sit alongside your sadness:

Tell “classic” stories. At family dinners or anniversaries, invite people to share funny memories of your loved one: the burned Thanksgiving, the terrible singing, the way they always mangled song lyrics.
Create a “Ridiculously Them” list. Write down small quirks that make you smile—how they took their coffee, their signature dance move, the way they mispronounced a word for 40 years.
Choose comfort media. Watch a show, movie, or comedian you genuinely find soothing—not as an escape forever, but as a break when the ache is too much.
Use humor in rituals. It’s okay if the eulogy includes a joke. It’s okay if the playlist at the reception includes the silly song they loved.
Make space for others’ laughter. When someone starts a funny story about your person and the room laughs, notice how it feels. If it’s too much, you can always step outside—but you might find the sound of that laughter surprisingly healing.

Letting humor into your legacy

Grief isn’t only about what’s gone; it’s also about what remains—memories, stories, and the ways we keep a person’s essence alive.
When you think about your legacy, it might be tempting to focus only on serious messages: advice, life lessons, final wishes. Those matter deeply. But the people who love you will also crave your laugh, your quirks, your way of seeing the world.
As you record your stories or final messages, you might consider including:

A funny story that captures your personality.
The “family legend” you always tell at holidays.
The joke you never quite managed to deliver without laughing at your own punchline.
A message giving your loved ones explicit permission to laugh, to tell stories, and to celebrate your life as well as mourning your absence.

Services like My Life’s Message exist exactly for this: to help you capture the fullness of who you are—your tenderness and your silliness, your wisdom and your one-liners—so that when your loved ones are grieving, they’re comforted not only by your serious words, but also by the sound of you.

If you’re grieving right now

If you are in the thick of loss as you read this, please hear this clearly:

There is no “right” way to grieve.
It’s okay if you can’t laugh yet.
It’s okay if laughter bursts out of you at the most inappropriate time.

Neither reaction means you loved any less.
If you’re curious about humor therapy, laughter yoga, or comedy-based groups, you might:

mention it to a therapist or counselor you trust
look for local grief support groups that incorporate creative or playful elements
try one tiny step—a funny memory, a light movie, a shared joke—and see how your heart responds

Humor won’t erase your grief. But used gently, it can be one more way of saying: Life still contains warmth. My love still exists. And even here, I am allowed moments of joy.

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