I tend to gravitate to dark humor as one of my favorite coping mechanisms. One of the things I find myself buying is t-shirts that turn heads.

One of the first ones I bought says Till Death and I wore it the last time I went to Camp Widow.

Halloween always has questionable choices available. Last year I got one for a friend and me that says, All Men Are Cremated equal complete with a witch stirring a skeleton in a cauldron.

For Mother’s Day I found a hot pink shirt that said Favorite Parent and because there was a special, I threw in another that said That Sounds Like My Husbands Problem.

Recently, I grabbed a sweatshirt embroidered with Ghost Him. That one is more a reference to the dismal dating culture these days but it still made me chuckle. Then I tried it on and one of the kids said, “Too late Mom, you got ghosted first.”  So that apple isn’t falling far from the tree.

I forgot I was wearing it and had the Ghost Him one on during a work call the other day. After relaying the story about my son, one of coworkers said he didn’t know if he should laugh or not. I assured him I was laughing; it was quick witted of my son and definitely okay to laugh.

Dark humor makes some people uncomfortable. But for me, it’s a way to keep Tony in the present. The kids and I don’t just have old stories about him. If we find a way to joke about him, it makes him part of that new moment. Everyone gets to do grief in their own way, and this is one of the ways I’m doing mine.