I need your opinion on my potential derby name

^^ James Van Der Beek's epic ugly cry. Ironically, I was watching this the
night I lost Scott. And I probably look just like this when I cry. Grody^^

Last night was the first time that Ryan had a gasping, sobbing meltdown over Scott's passing.
You may think that this is weird since he has been gone now for nearly ten weeks.
At first, right after he died, I was actually quite upset over my kids' lack of hysteria.
There were a lot of people that traveled to attend his funeral as well as friends and family helping locally, so what was a blurry, heartbreaking, and paralyzing time for me felt like a party to them.
They were receiving a lot of attention and toys, in addition to having play dates back-to-back.
I would try talking to them.
I would remind them of our situation and try to evoke some tears, which sounds kind of cruel, but I wanted them to be as upset as I was.

Ryan, I could tell, was carefully disconnecting her feelings and not allowing herself to concede to our new reality.
She was very purposefully avoiding the admission that he was gone, and instead sidestepped that emotional mess altogether.
She focused her energy on basking in the fuss being made of her and her brothers.
Ezra didn't really understand.
He continued to pray every day for, "daddy to get better and come home from the hospital."
I would gently remind him that daddy could not come home and now lives in heaven.
He would snap, "I know, stop saying that," to which I would nod and apologize.
He still "wishes" for daddy to come home every time he picks a dandelion and blows all the fluff off.
And even mentioned to me the other day that it doesn't feel that different without daddy since he was gone (at school or work) all the time anyway.
I hate that.
Micah is fairly oblivious.
He still squeals in delight every time he sees a picture of Scott, and screams, "Daddy! In hea-ben."
So I moronically thought that maybe my unbroken presence in their lives and my dad and Heather filling in for Scott was the explanation for their mild reaction to Scott's death.
But really, Ryan breaking down last night was a good reminder that they may be suffering just as much as I am, they just don't know how to handle it.
I know the kids are concerned when they see me crying, and I don't want to scare them, but I want them to know it is okay and even healthy to cry.
I don't hide it from them, but I don't walk around all day blubbering either.
There is a balance in there somewhere.
Where am I going with this?
I have no effing clue.
I am just winging this whole thing and trying every day to make them feel loved and safe.

On a more uplifting note, I am getting my wisdom teeth pulled on Friday and may even be game to writing a drug-induced post.
Although, I am not being put under so it really could be quite a disappointing read.
I will just look like a chipmunk and be eating my meals through a straw, so pretty much the same as every other day.
And I also passed my Tier 2 assessment skills in roller derby with a score of 100%!
Which to 99.9% of my dozen readers probably means nothing.
Translation: I will now be hitting people more and be preparing to scrimmage.
I am no longer a hazard on skates and can be trusted to hurt others responsibly.
Also I may have settled on a derby name: Bri-Anarchy.
Hehehehe.
Thoughts? Bad-a$$ or lame?

p.s. I apologize from the bottom of my heart for failing to post yesterday on Rex Manning Day! Opportunity missed. #namethatmovie