When in the room, after the doctor (who is absolutely lovely) revealed the news, we were waiting for the nurse to come in and set up my mom’s next round of exams. Upon looking at a poster, I saw a bug on the wall, climbing…climbing…climbing.

Of course, neither my mom or I would touch it, so we grabbed tissues and gave them to my dad. He smashed the bug on, of all places, a poster for breast cancer.

“Uh, dad,” I said, “you’re totally touching stage four melanoma breasts.”

And for some reason, it was the funniest thing in the world. My dad touching a poster of breasts.

And we laughed and laughed and laughed. And it was the best I’ve ever felt, despite it all. Because nothing, absolutely nothing, beats that first communal laugh after something tragic happens.

Nothing.