This is a post I made on social media on January 2, 2023. 10 days after losing my son. 10 days after my world was shattered.
“Carter has been slowly asking more questions. About the accident, what specifically about the accident caused his big brother’s death, etc. Tonight, he asked me about cremation. Bryce knew that’s what he wanted and we honored his request after his memorial. So I explained it to Carter. And I said that half would be here with us and half would be with Bryce’s dad in Tucson.
Part of being raised by a nurse is being around a dark sense of humor your entire life. Bryce had that humor too. Apparently so does Carter.
Carter: So he’s being split in half? That’s kinda weird.
Me: Yeah. Do you think we want the burping half or the farting half?
Carter: {bursts into a fit of giggles}
Me: Even Bryce would have laughed at that one, huh?
Carter: He would have laughed until he farted.
Me: So maybe we should keep the burping end then?
Carter: {more giggles}
For those who knew Bryce, you know he’d have laughed his ass off at that convo.”
I am a nurse. My ex is a nurse. His wife is a nurse. My poor kid grew up with 3 different parents who never let him get away with faking sick because we always knew he was full of shit.
Along with that comes the bizarre sense of humor shared by healthcare workers and other professionals dealing with things like sadness and death regularly. We cope by using dark humor and when you’re the child of one of those people, you develop the same humor. So when I said that Bryce would have laughed at that exchange, I meant it.
All 3 of us parents told jokes during our speeches at his memorial. His stepmom made a joke about how she was telling me about once yelling at him during a fight that just because he didn’t come out of her vagina didn’t mean she didn’t love him any less, and I told her that it was okay because he didn’t come out of mine either. That damn kid was a long induction followed by an emergency C-Section. I told a joke about canceling his premium Spotify account and how their site asked, “how likely are you to resubscribe” and I had to select “very unlikely”. To cap it all off, his father said that his wife had stolen his joke, but it was okay because Bryce didn’t come out of his vagina either.
Told you we were all weird. I’d bet that it was the first time that a funeral home heard the word vagina used during a memorial service, though.
At that point after the accident, I was still living in my son’s dirty clothes. I couldn’t bring myself to wash anything. Sleeping in his clothes with my face pressed into his stinky pillow was the only way I got even a *little* sleep. Wearing his clothes every day brought me comfort. Honestly, it still does and it has been almost 4 weeks. His clothes. His favorite color, purple, has become a comfort color to me. Even his little brother has been wanting a little extra purple around.
A post made to my Facebook on January 1, 2023
Baby brother’s purple LEDs and collage frame of them
Purple to welcome us home in honor of my baby
Grief is a B!tch 