My grandmother always told me "be sure to keep them laughing."

Thick tar scent pouring past yellowed teeth.

I remember the cool touch of her flaccid skin

The crystalline blue of her eyes behind thick lensed glasses.

"You're good at it. Make sure they keep laughing."

The sharpness of her voice distinct from the hum of Christmas.

I remember the smile as her eyes surveyed the family

A single tear rolling down her cheek looking at her daughters.

"Laughing makes you happy. And they deserve to be happy."

The cold skin of her hand on my cheek smelled of smoke,

The coarse fabric of her sleeve itching my face.

Our eyes meeting in a moment unlike any I'd known.

"I try to keep them laughing grandma."

I'd whispered years later at her wake.

Eyes watering with the regret of years lost to madness.

A promise kept for her daughters continued.