Dazee’s Blues

9/3/2026

By Joy Lynn Clark

A couple of weeks ago I got a phone call from New York. It was the medical examiner who needed me to identify my child. “Do I need to come there?” I asked. “No, I can send you pictures” the medical examiner explained. “Do you have some identification?” I questioned. “Here is a copy of my ID badge” the ME answered.

As I looked at the badge photo via MME message, I kept thinking to myself, “Is this real?”. The Examiner sent me some seemingly secure authorization emails. I was hesitant however; I gave authorization so that I could view the photos. Next, I got some emails with photos of my son’s face with a case number below. His eyes were closed.

Clearly that is him, “how did he die?” I asked. “Your son was found unresponsive” the ME went on to explain. The Examiner then proceeded to give me the New York toxicology department, a family outreach number to make the funeral arrangements, and the NYPD.

Next my phone rings and it’s my dad. I started to explain what just happened and I can barely maintain control. “I just talked to him two days ago. He said he had a new job, and I was so glad for him, they’re saying he’s dead.” I sobbed to my Dad.

After I hung up the phone I started to recall my last conversation with my son from a couple of days ago. “I am going to be moving boxes, you know like stock work, until Halloween.” My child explains. “Well, you should get some work for the Christmas holiday asap. Did you call the agency? Let me see if I can give you some phone numbers.” I offered.

I just saw my son in August for my mother’s funeral. I had just driven up to Chicago from Kentucky for a second time in less than a month. I was already brokenhearted, but I was so glad that my dad was willing to send for my son because I was flat broke. I had been traveling back and forth and not working much.

Dad gave me my son’s travel itinerary, and I picked him up from Union Station. I was thrilled. I had not seen my son since he quit his full-time job and moved to NYC with his girlfriend just last May.

I was so sad about my mother’s passing however, seeing my son again was awesome. As soon as he got into my car, I had a lot to say, “I missed you so much, are you happy? Do you like it there?”. “New York is so much better than Kentucky” he points out. I figured that he would think so. Next, my child starts streaming some of his music on his phone. I let the song go a couple of minutes and then I ask him, “Can you lower the volume so that we can chat?”

I knew that he probably didn’t have a suit, and I thought that this was ok. “Remember our last phone conversation, clean and neat? I don’t have much money, but do you need something?” I ask. “Yes, but just some shampoo and conditioner” he points out. “Done” I respond. Since his bus got in early in the morning, I managed to stop at a convenience store and then a grocery store so that we don’t eat up all of my aunt’s food. “I also need to do some laundry” my son mentions.

“Remember when I told you that I broke up with my girlfriend?” my son questions. “I remember” I answer. “She stole my birth certificate and my social security card”. He stated.

“After the funeral we can go downtown and get you a new copy of your birth certificate, and I have a copy of your social security card.” I added helpfully.

“I know that she broke your heart, but it will get better I promise.” I swear to him. I fell in love at his age and was really hoping that he wasn’t too depressed.

“Then she ran off with another dude” he tells me. “Did you call the police? She might really be trying to do something nasty to you” I point out. “I reported that I had identity theft” he says. “I really think that you should call the police.” I insist.

Once we arrived back at my aunt’s condo in Chicago, I got out of the car and attempted to give him a hug. “Yuck you stink! Take a shower as soon as we get upstairs”. I guess that’s what you get when you take a 24-hour bus ride I thought to myself. “IF I am feeling OK, we can go downtown for a DJ show tomorrow” I add. Although we are both here for my mom’s funeral, I wanted to do something in the city with my boy who I had not seen in a few months. Also, I am not sure when we will get to see each other again. As soon as he finds a job there, he may not be able to get time off early on.

After my son took his shower, he immediately went into the guest room and slept until the next day. In the meantime, I binged a series on Netflix. Unlike him I was unable to sleep. Surprisingly, I wasn’t crying much but I didn’t get enough rest and my stomach hurt. I took more antacids.

The next morning came and went. My son finally got up in the early afternoon. “Let’s take the train downtown and go to the DJ show” I add. I had a good time and took a lot of pictures. We also grabbed some Italian beefs and watched the boats pass. As I scrolled through the photos, I realized just how photogenic my son is and, I also had a feeling that these photos are bittersweet.

The next day we saw the whole family at my mom’s funeral, and I finally broke out in tears on the way to the cemetery. I almost started a fight with my dad but I decided not to. I took pictures of the hole that was dug for her casket. I don’t know what for, but I did.

That night I could not sleep again, and I reached out to my old rap partner. I was hot in my aunt’s Chicago condo that only had AC in two rooms. I told him about my mother’s passing, and I longed to get in my car (with AC) and meet him somewhere.

However, it was getting late and all that I could think of was to meet him in a bar. I totally just wasted his time, but I really didn’t want to go to a bar. Then I thought about how I would lose my parking spot. I just wanted to cool off. I decided to sit outside. “I am sorry, I am tripping” I apologized. He was alright and I could tell that he didn’t really want to meet somewhere in a bar either.

The next day my son and I went to city hall and replaced his birth certificate. It was good that the two of us happened to be in Chicago. I was sorry that it was for my mother’s funeral. The clerk offered his condolences.

On the very last day we kissed everyone goodbye and packed our bags for the ride home. I dropped my son off at Union Station for the 24-hour ride back to NYC and I had a 6 hour drive back down to Lexington, Kentucky.

On top of all of that, my aunt was hospitalized the very next day after I got back home. She was in ICU for two weeks.

After reminiscing about the last time that I saw my family together I got sad. I wasn’t ready. Maybe this is fake. Maybe this is some AI crap. I cried for a week while contacting the authorities in NYC. My Dad, brother, sister, and cousin were fabulous. However, I don’t think that anyone else believes it. It would be good if it were untrue.