Gospel 288 ~Braxton Is, Write Will~

I much rather be writing letters to my son than having to contemplate going to HR again today. How about explaining to my Olds about really becoming a starving artist? No matter how confusing, I do write better than I speak. “Braxton Is, Write Will.”

Thursday, April 15, 2021

Gospel 288 ~Braxton Is, Write Will~

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day; has your day begun? Is the Rainbow Bridge like the Rainbow Road a timed event?

It wasn’t a race you had to win, and yet you did. That explains why I’ve been listening to “Run Boy Run” on the playlist I made for you or me, us… I don’t know. While I have nothing to say to God, that line from He’s My Son echoes, “if you can hear me, let me take his place somehow.” It’s a simple request, and if I had written anything that touches others the way that line makes me bawl? I could have stopped you from leaving, you know, like putting up some gate. It wasn’t money or the doctors, Braxton it was time. Two years ago, I paid money to publish Gulp, and here I am two years later without you or anything.

You have been here for every story I’ve ever written. Well, minus that one when turkeys took over the whole world. Where has the hunger gone, I ask you? Wasn’t it right after you left? I signed the papers, and I turned ravenous, at least physically, from famine to feast. It still hurts, you know, even when I shop online. Hell, even before I do that, I sit here doing the budget again. Your needs are no longer part of the mathematical equation unless we count the water bill. That’s where your grandparents step in. I should be writing checks. Instead, I book shopping trips, and the food disappears. I buy books from infamous figures. The background is plagued with noise from unwatched shows, Youtube.

If writing paid for this, who knows where you would be my B; still alive? Instead, I continue to work the Day Job I hate and write lackadaisically at best. You would sit here with me, or at 2:00 AM, you’d be in your bed waiting. I’d come in, and you’d wake up to get in my bed. If I wasn’t going to be serious about my writing, the least I could do is spend more time with you. I Only Want To Be With You, like Janine and her Charlotte in The Handmaid’s Tale. Another book, a show, a concept more remarkable than mine. Yours ended but my library… Braxton, perhaps that was your last lesson. I am your father, a “writer.” To be all, Braxton Is, Write Will

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Gospel 281 ~A Noise With Braxton~

I figured if there is one horror movie I’d survive, it’d be A Quiet Place. People make too much noise, and B and I didn’t like it. At least his noises always meant something, but I didn’t listen. Now I’ll never hear him again. “A Noise With Braxton.”

Thursday, April 8, 2021

Gospel 281 ~A Noise With Braxton~

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? Are you listening to me? I know you would ask if you ever did before?

I’m still not talking to God. There’s not much point in even acknowledging such a thing. Yep, that’s going to piss off some religious folk. Your grandma did check-in about a week or so. Your aunt told me of another furry kid. THEY don’t get it like the song “He’s My Son.” Always and Forever. There I go crying again. At the very least, I can say it hasn’t been all “wailing and gnashing of teeth.” It’s more a soft sob these days, but not one day has passed without me crying for you. I could be grieving for me because I hope you’re happy, of course, wherever you are, Braxton. Annoyed we aren’t together anymore is the lightest way I can put that B.

Also, there’s the fact that I didn’t read to you more. One reason is that reading about “succubi?” Those aren’t good stories for you. I still say either Heaven was jealous of Cerberus, or he needed a buddy. Two is, have you seen the actual books I’ve been buying? And three, I’m not done writing. You are too much like me, wanting to work so hard but quick with an excuse. You can’t see because Daddy hasn’t cut the grass; I’m not doing that because I’m writing. I’m not doing that because you’re napping on my legs. I was on my feet all yesterday because, yes, B, A Man Provides. That’s what you did, B III, all the sighs, huffs, sobbing, you brought the noise.

No amount of ASMR will ever make up for your sneak attacks, snoring, or sinning the world with your barks. I don’t care how pretty “Amy Kay” is. I rather have your cuteness. Before you ask, your Daddy is still celibate/asexual monk; sixty-seven days. Even longer One Hundred And Four. Now that’s too much information, B, but just a thought, I saw you with all your toys, ha-ha. You know the sound of my heartbeat when we would lie on the couch. I could be out cold, and how many times have I said this? I would wake up, and you would be sitting at the foot of the bed. You heard me say goodbye. Now I want your Hi. Anything, A Noise With Braxton

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Still Salty About B III “A Dream”

Talk about pouring salt on a wound. And as the song goes, “These wounds won’t seem to heal. This pain is just too real.” To be honest, I’ll take a dream about Braxton than being trapped in boxes at the Day Job. Still Salty About B III “A Dream.”

I’m reminded of the night my Olds cut me off. Most of the police were gone. Thank you ever so much, National Suicide Prevention Lifeline. For once again, proving no one gives a shit if I live or die. Only, that was so many years ago, and my dream brought that back some. Except in my dream, it was daylight. I had my current car, which is far from a Mercedes. I wasn’t at my former “home.” I was sitting in the parking lot of PetSmart, where there’s a Banfield Pet Hospital. Braxton died there.

I’m not blaming them or anything. This is my fault but anyway, so my dream…

I’m sitting in the car, but I’m not alone. B III is riding shotgun, and he’s not sick. He’s happy and giddy, but he wants outside. He smiles, and I pat his head. Usually, he’s frightened of car rides, and of course, he’s still standing, but there’s no fear in him, only an eagerness. My “Dear Future Wife” is sitting in the backseat. At this point, I’ve narrowed it down to three girls. Her face is that of Anna Vlasova, “Alissa” MarvelCharm. Her body is more Alycia Debnam-Carey, yep. Then we get breasts, and there are two words Sabrina Nichole. Then there was my “father” sitting beside her. How does one tell a nightmare from a dream? He was a big red flag, not literally. With him being there, I should have gone ahead and woke up, but I didn’t.

The vision played on until my alarm woke me up, and I didn’t scream or even grumble. It didn’t slip away these images. Like my memory of being cut off, it only sat there waiting, which brings me here today. Fifty-Eight days since Braxton’s passing, and I know, I do. I should get on with the dream. I should get past this feeling… As the song goes, “Let It Go.” Only there were no Disney characters to be had. I’ve been through Legion to John Wick, but only one film truly stands, and it’s this.

The Count of Monte Cristo (2002). In my dream, I was Edmond Dantes, but I was still me, hoody and all. My wife again was the three girls I described. My father in this, what I remember is black. He could be a zombie for all I care but was he the villain or all.

The door on the passenger side opens. Braxton never goes out that way as he crawled over my lap in real life. He’s tugging on his leash, eager to get to the store. More importantly, to get to the hospital in back. It was rare for us to simply walk the store as he usually has an appointment at the groomers or the vet. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind where he wanted to go. I’ve laughed a lot, telling him, “are you going to walk in like a man?” In the dream, I got scared holding his leash.

Braxton pulled and tugged. Whether he wanted me to follow or let go, I wasn’t sure at the moment. I held on tighter as Braxton barked towards PetSmart as if he were asking for help. It was the complete opposite, the day he passed away. Hell, I carried Braxton there. Wifey said something like I needed to let him go, and I shouted at her, “He’s all I have!” My Braxton was, no, is my world, and no matter what she said or did, I couldn’t give up. As I said, she was a combination of three of the most beautiful women, but B III. Wifey opens the door and begins pulling out piles of money from the trunk. There are clothes and gold, diamonds. My eyes were fixed on Braxton, but I knew all the stuff was back there being taken from me, and it didn’t matter. Braxton’s struggling

My “father” says the same thing, to let Braxton go, and I scream at him, “Don’t rob me of my hate; it’s all I have!” Now, wait a minute, I thought that was B III? At this point, I could no longer see him beyond the car door. I felt him continue to try and drag me, but I wanted him back in the car. We would be safe together. My “father” left the car, and like my wife, he began pulling things out. Only in his arms were guns and knives. I thought of my mother taking my first pocket knife. It was a Spiderman back when he was with Venom. It was black and white with the Spiderman emblem. The blade was black with white webbing. It was my favorite, but it’s gone.

So there’s my wife grabbing green and my father taking guns. A wicked world, cruel…

Before Braxton, Wifey, and my “father” left, I heard the three of them like one voice. “Let It Go,” but did I let go, or was there nothing left of me. I won’t give up ever. B gave me one of those looks when he’s like, “Really, Dad, Seriously, Daddy.”

All three doors slammed together, and I was left alone in the car. All that remained was Braxton’s black leash and hippy collar. With the blue towel, I had placed beneath him. The day this really happened, I burst into tears and couldn’t go home. I went to Walmart of all places and picked out a black digital frame. I also picked up BBQ because my mom called, saying I had to eat. You don’t want to know what I wanted to do, but I didn’t because Braxton was watching. There had been a storm minutes before but now sunlight.

In the dream, though, I continued to sit there. It was like the movie 1408, but it was only my car instead of a hotel room. John Cusack, aka Mike Enslin, had to listen to “We’ve Only Just Begun” as the room tortured him. As I sat in my car, it began to fill up with salt. I wasn’t afraid. As a matter of fact, I wanted to dive in, no question. The car was becoming an hourglass. Yes, I know those have sand, but Braxton never went to a beach. I wasn’t cold, and I don’t do drugs. Well, I never did cocaine anyway. As I was buried alive…

The Devil by PJ Harvey
Everyone Says Hi (Defiance Version) by Young Beautiful in a Hurry feat Fyfe Monroe
He’s My Son by Mark Schultz

I listened, and not once did I want to escape; I only sat there waiting for the inevitable. The nightmare didn’t end. I saw flashes. Pornos I have, an air pistol with its orange tip, other real weapons, cash. In all of that, though, I never saw Braxton again, only his collar and the endless white. I don’t know if I lived or died, but the alarm went off, and that was that. It’s been a typical day so far. I can’t say “Another Day” anymore. I did clean out Braxton’s old dog dish. It’s been about two months, and something furry was growing. I wanted to keep the can of special food, another mess.

What does it all mean? I’ll break down four elements of the dream; Three, Wifey, Father, and all the Salt.

The Number Three: His name is Braxton Barks Bradford. There were three people in the car or three lives other than my own. Braxton started getting sick on Wednesday, which is actually the fourth day of the week. However, he died on a Sunday, meaning the next Wednesday would be the third day of his death. With my “OCD,” I test things by three’s. I have three women in my life, my mom, Indiana Gone, and M Anime. It’s like that book “The Five,” the main character, “Rainey Summer Day.”

Wifey: Speaking of Rainey Summer Day and how, when Braxton died, there was a storm, and then the sun was out. I suppose she represented love and lust. I haven’t been open to anything since losing Braxton. I’m a man, I have desires, I’m horny, but there is no will both figuratively and literally. Everything I do in life is about sex, and at the same time, I want love. I want a family. Only no one understands the love I have for my son, and losing him, costs everything.

Father: He, of course, represents my hate. If it’s not sex, then let it be violence. Since Braxton’s been gone, I’ve been in a rage, but I’m always fighting it. Anger is the second stage of grief which is another step towards Acceptance. I refuse to accept that. My son is dead, and yet I can’t stop. His water bowl is filled every day. Losing all of my weapons, the ability to wage war. On the one hand, it helps maintain my Denial, but if I can’t love or hate?

Salt: Braxton is my balance, my constant, my peace. It’s why he sat at my right hand. Why did B want me to let him go? The day he left, all he wanted was to go home, but I chose this path. Salty tears, hmm? Everyone Says Hi goes, “said you sailed a big ship, said you sailed away,” ocean? It could mean diet, which has been lacking. It could have something to do with sex since I won’t allow any pleasure. Or looking back, becoming a pillar of salt.

A dream, a nightmare, nothing at all, I don’t know. Only that’s how I feel. Salt preserves. My nothingness preserved.

Gospel 274 ~Are You Kidding, Braxton~

It’s the first of the month. All these bills aren’t a joke, and neither is Camp NaNoWriMo. And now it’s official, Braxton has been gone two months. If I make it through this one, it’s a record for Braxton and I being apart. “Are You Kidding, Braxton”

Thursday, April 1, 2021

Gospel 274 ~Are You Kidding, Braxton~

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? If you did, usually you’d come running to the gate. Are you under the bed?

I’ve checked Braxton, and to be honest, I didn’t even want to get up today. I’m in enough trouble as is, seeing how this is the first day of Camp NaNoWriMo, and I’m running behind. Will I continue my “series,” write about you, or finish GULP? I say that weekly. Know what else I say B? I love you, make good decisions, and of course, “Just Me Baby B,” whenever I come home. People think I’m joking, and if this wasn’t about you, I would say I got ISSUES. I’m still looking for you without fail and freaking out daily. Baby B, I miss those looks you would give me like I couldn’t be serious or even when I panicked, and you were at peace.

Do you remember that time you tried to convince me that you always walked on three legs? You knew I needed my glasses, so that’s when you decide to show me you ate all your food, or you had gone in your bathroom spot. How many treats did you receive? Braxton, you think about biscuits, the way I think about sex, the way leeches think about blood. Now I tricked you plenty myself to get you out of your hiding spots. When people came to the door, we were like a comedy duo. B, My Cerberus, and an “Ordinary Human.” I thought it was funny when you got into trouble… I got some “alone time.” You laughed because I treated life like it wasn’t awesome.

I guess the joke really is on me. Wanting you to live forever was a joke. Believing that someday, I would introduce you to my wife and children, and you’d grow old with us all. People laugh as I call you my son. But no one walking the Earth today, who shares my blood, could say they have the sway you held, still do. You will always be mine, My firstborn. B III I thought you were joking when a day went by, a night you cried. Hell, I thought you missed me before. I knew it was a joke when the hospital called asking for permission. You were dying.

Not funny. The Rainbow Bridge, Heaven, I hope you’re smiling, laughing. Are You Kidding, Braxton?

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Gospel 267 ~The Future B Fruitful~

Somebody said to be fruitful and multiply. Someone else said that today is B-E-A-utiful. Braxton isn’t here to see it, and is it considering when I’m writing this. The family I promised him is somewhere… haven’t met HER yet. The Future B Fruitful hmm

Thursday, March 25, 2021

Gospel 267 ~The Future B Fruitful~

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? I know what you’re thinking, B. I’m not making time for you on our day?

I would tell you, it’s just how life is. If I had been paying attention before… It’s one reason I have to write so early now as if I could do something… save you? Only I don’t think you want to talk about our last days together. I should have been petting you like crazy. Daddy was always writing and even then being a lazy ass but dreaming about that magical someday. Every day should have been ours because you were happy. Besides telling me, you don’t hate me, I want to know you were happy in life. Always, forever. Braxton, I wanted to do something special for your sixteenth birthday. Of course, it has come and gone. I didn’t buy you anything for Christmas?

We had time, you know? Oh, and I’ve said it so many times, I wanted to give you a family. Your mom, some siblings, I never wanted you to be lonely. With you, I never was, and I thank you. I always treated it as another day, believing you would be here no matter what. While my sister never did, I would carry you around in my backpack too. I wanted to get you a little emotional support vest so I could take you anywhere. I wouldn’t wish my “work” on anybody, but I could take you to my dream job and how people would love you lots B III. Your love made me want to give love. Saving me, you gave too much, Braxton.

What did I do with such a gift? Nothing is growing, no matter how many tears I cry. The sweat of this man’s brow serves no purpose. Sure I have more things to keep me alive, but every day I ask myself why. Do you remember B that old quote of What Would Jesus Do? Yeah, that’s one more idea, a black bracelet asking me, What Would Braxton Do? I still have all the books I read. But maybe I should start a Things I Learned From Braxton. Am I planning for the future? Do you know your grandpa said, your soul might guide me? Well, I do know what you want. Daddy is Happy.

Not yet, not ever… the days, The Future B Fruitful

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Gospel 260 ~B For The WIND~

What’s wrong with a garden in Tennessee? What about back in the old neighborhood. Why not at my Olds house or in the backyard here, where he would play. I’ve thought they could put ashes in a tattoo. I didn’t let a “tornado” get my B. B For The Wind.

Thursday, March 18, 2021

Gospel 260 ~B For The WIND~

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? I still don’t know about me, but it wasn’t “Another Day.” I’m not thinking that.

When will it be something more… I don’t know; a day when I’ll actually mind dying. I swear that I would have kept sitting there working if it wasn’t for you, Braxton, yesterday. Yet, I could have been looking for an excuse to stop. You were good for that, a distraction. When I woke up this morning, hell on many a morning like this, I would tell myself, you were sleeping. I have an off day. I’ll let you decide when you want to get up for a walk. Of course, I never rested on those morals when it was something I wanted, did I?

When you were in danger though… brother to brother, yours in life and death, my “First Knight,” well you saw.

Windy day huh? An understatement for a tornado, but I didn’t see anything; I’m fine. You are always so worried for me, B III. I got up, thinking if the town blew away, “Where’d You Go?” I can’t have you leaving me again Braxton, I’m not doing that great lately. Windy days for you too, I suppose. I imagine what Heaven, The Rainbow Bridge, wherever is like. Not a day passes by that I don’t see myself standing with the vets. They told me about you blowing through a garden in Tennessee with your brethren.

No, I needed you home with me B. Wind, be it a tornado, hurricane, air conditioning… my wayward writing geez.

You don’t know how bad I want to touch your fur, but I need that reminder, if but a piece.

Win B III, you won. As the storm came, I grabbed three things. The one that showed I gave a damn about my life now was you. I actually moved “you” from the nightstand. As of all things on Earth, I could take with me. I wanted you by my side, B always and forever. Winning also was, God knows, how many bytes with my laptop and the bucks in my wallet. I got my stimulus check, and if we were together, I would spoil you rotten. Oh, like how I spent the last stimulus? I’m not angry with you, Braxton. It’s only the memories. Damn the windfall, if I could be with you again. Winning isn’t something I’m doing. It’s B For The WIND.

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Gospel 253 ~How Braxton WARMED Me~

I should go for a walk, take a hot shower, burn rubber and attend to the errands that I’ve been neglecting as of late. No, I rather stay in Braxton’s hoodie or wrap myself in blankets and figure out how to avoid Hell; too late. How Braxton WARMED Me.

Thursday, March 11, 2021

Gospel 253 ~How Braxton WARMED Me~

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? Are you waiting for me now? “Hope the weather’s good and it’s not too hot.”

No, not like that, Braxton. To quote another song, “isn’t it ironic, don’t you think?” Here I am in Hell, and God saw fit to adopt my Cerberus. I want to be all Ethan Montgomery and scream out; you’re mine. Any luck hearing me yet? It’s been thirty-eight days, Braxton. Maybe the angels needed something to do in their downtime? I bet you have them running, huh. Are they like your first or second moms, all furry, lovey-dovey? Indiana Gone says hi,” I had her crying again, missing you, and you wouldn’t want that, right? Talking to her Tuesday, she asked about, let’s say, “stuff and thangs? Am I trying to get to Heaven, the Rainbow Bridge, or wherever… never seeing you again? That’s Hell

Or it could be that I spend so much time under the covers. I don’t know if I’m waiting for COVID or the weather is making me regret the walks we missed. I’ve been talking a lot about food lately, and I think stuffing my face makes me sick. It’s with you being gone, B. I’m trying to find other things to be mad at. Now don’t go hiding under any beds. I’m not angry at you, the vets, the people who saw you last… Braxton, I wish I’d been there. I’ve cried enough to douse so many fires now? I’m sweating bullets for you because no sin could be worse. “I’ll never let you down,” but oh look, there’s your name on paper there.

“Burn rubber but not your soul,” How’s the traffic, some car rides from here to there. If I had been a day faster, Wednesday, you were crying, Thursday you seemed okay, Friday, the vet. I have replayed those last days over and over, and if it wasn’t wrath, sloth, greed.
Son, what you don’t understand is I wanted to give us that life we dreamed of. I wanted you to be wrapped up in warmth, days out in the sun. Your siblings would be raining food on you in every direction. Should I be jealous future wife likes you better? B III, I’m hoping you’re not angry with me or even whoever thought they could love you better. Only everyone knows, How Braxton Warmed Me.

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Gospel 246 ~You Reading Me Braxton~

Thursday, March 4, 2021

Gospel 246 ~You Reading Me Braxton~

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? If you have time… “I’d love to get a letter. Like to know what’s what.”

Now I didn’t write that. It’s from David Bowie’s Everyone Says “Hi.” I’m sure you understand that now being wherever you are. I haven’t read any more about the Rainbow Bridge, Farms, Heaven. “If I had my way, then surely you would be closer,” Braxton. Looking up so many so lyrics because I don’t know what to say, like the day you left. You didn’t understand what I was signing or the papers I was pointing to. God help me if you’re really sitting there in the darkness. I believe you’re beside me, finally knowing. Braxton, I would understand if you hate me for it. I deserve it. Hell, who was I writing to back in January, and now this is us. How dare I.

Nearly sixteen years and every day, I took time to read and write. Sometimes you took it as nap time, and others, you wanted to play. I told you, I was building our future. No more going to the Day Job, for starters. I did it for us because what does a man do, Braxton? A man provides. However, about that future… I’ve spent my days all over Youtube. With my breaking, I suppose “Breaking Bad” makes sense. I listen to the soundtrack I created daily. Everything I write comes back to you, B III, my letters, your novelization, history. I wanted us to have more time. You deserved a family, my wife, some siblings.

To be that greying old man surrounded in such love. Instead, only me, your daddy.

It’s a better word than Murderer. Is that what you think of me? Over the past few days, I’ve been thinking about how my fingers would drum on your head. Sometimes I know it was like I was smothering you. How you would wake me up after I zoned-out reading. I’m still sticking to a routine. I read in the mornings, imagining you cuddled against me. I’ve earned the pain I’m getting from such books as “A Dog’s Purpose” and others. I look at your certificate with the rest of your things. The last bill rest on the coffee table. Dear B, I just need a sign; a bark, your cuddles, knowing you don’t hate me? You Reading Me Braxton?

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Gospel 239 ~Braxton, Walkers, Biters, Empties~

“You wanna go outside,” I’d ask him, and he’d go running and hopping down to our gate or the front door, and the two of us would “walk” these streets, um suburbs. Our last walk, his, he didn’t have to make but hope… Braxton, Walkers, Biters, Empties.

Thursday, February 25, 2021

Gospel 239 ~Braxton, Walkers, Biters, Empties~

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? As for mine, I walked, I worked, I wigged-out. Only us walking, one more walk…

I’ve told the story of our first walk and the aftermath so many times. I remember even earlier than that. There was a time when you couldn’t decide whether you wanted to go two steps forward or two steps back. One of the many reasons you didn’t believe your furry behind should ever meet tile, hardwood, the deck, whatever. I still feel you sitting on my feet. Oh, I know the law well, my friend. When I was chosen, I wouldn’t move for forever and a day. Now isn’t that everyone that has ever had a furry kid they loved? I’ll need to find a thesaurus for more words for crying. This Sunday, I’ll face another first without… Braxton, when will I believe you aren’t somewhere waiting in the house? Every Sunday night, you knew where I was and staying.

You would run around the house like a mad man when you were young, but on Sunday nights? People usually love the weekends, but I don’t know what your favorite day is? Anytime we were together. Daddy was always there, but The Walking Dead? “B TV.” We watched movies all the time, you know, with Indiana Gone too, a lot.

When we were young, B III. The doctor told me my eyes weren’t getting better, but they weren’t getting worse. Then the Vet told me not to move stuff around for you. We started walking less. But we would always snuggle up together to this screen or that; books, TV, me, and my writing. I’ve seen the end of the world coming, but not like this. We’re apocalypse buddies, Braxton.

The Long Walk, The Green Mile, The Running Man, leave it to Stephen King. Do you understand anything I am talking about, Little B? You don’t have to because we lived it every day. On your Vet visits, I would ask, “are you going to walk in like a man?” When we were outside, the people to me were zombies, and you’d bark. The dogs to you were much the same, and I would carry you. I should have carried you around our route one last time, but I was bawling as I prayed for a miracle. You couldn’t even walk in this time, but those trips to your water bowl. I was proud of you. I walk alone now, and Only God Knows Why.

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Gospel 232 ~Braxton My MAID Man~

Braxton hated the maid. When I started cleaning, he’d hide as if he did something wrong. Braxton had a habit of hiding under the bed when sick. Should have tipped me off when he didn’t. Thought we had it made, my main man. “Braxton My MAID Man.”

Thursday, February 18, 2021

Gospel 232 ~Braxton My MAID Man~

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? I keep hoping you are, wherever you are. Everywhere I say and then again B…

It’s been about three weeks, and it’s like every sense is affected by you being gone. The first is sound. I stay in bed longer, knowing I won’t see you. Food, hell, I live because of your schedule. It’s been snowing here, but it wasn’t the outside that was bothering me. I feel colder, which brings me to my point. Touch and smell; I have a bit of your hair wrapped up. I want to pet it, but I can’t afford to lose a single one. I’m trying desperately to keep up our routines but without having to clean up… I can’t smell you in the sheets anymore. I’m still wearing the hoodie. Your bed B, I had to kneel down to be reminded today.

Or when I spill something… I still call you first, and then I remember. Every now and again, there’s a crumb of something or other. On the table, there are eighteen treats, not that you would count them. Water sloshes around when I refill your bowl. At the same time, the carpet is dry, but I’ll get to that. It’s like I’m trying to leave a trail for you to find your way home. I won’t lie that a part of me wants to be wherever you are. You wouldn’t allow that, though. We are a family, you and I, and nothing ever came between that. Besides the mess in the house, there is the mess of me. The dirt I can’t do; won’t allow.

As I said, I have a dry carpet because I’ve started taking evening showers. You hated that and would start crying to get me out. I’ve been having cravings for onion rings because, one, they’re not fries; that’s our thing. Two, you couldn’t have onion rings anyway. The same goes for chocolate. The most we ever had was when Indiana Gone warned me about… never mind. But I bought her plenty and a blanket and ice cream so we could hang out. I was so frightened you’d find some crumb, but that’s when I had it MADE. I cleaned up for her. You cleaned up for us; Life wasn’t messy.

My heart, my mind, and my soul, you got it all B III. You’re Made, Main, Braxton My Maid Man.

Always and Forever,
Your Dad