A song goes; a penny for my thoughts. I’ll sell them for a dollar. All I want is my best friend back. I keep asking, but I keep confessing too. He’s not coming back, and I’m guilty. And if I had the right words… Cheap Words Cost More Breaths yep
Monday, March 1, 2021
Gospel 243 ~Cheap Words Cost More Breaths~
Hundred And Seventy-Seventh Rule
I AM a Billionaire right now, and it cost me around three hours to say that every day.
How much of that time could have been spent with Braxton? Hell, with as many times as I said NO to him over the years. Why couldn’t I have died with him? Careful, right, Madam Justice, with those kinds of thoughts. Not that I care so much what happens anymore. You know the list of my most hated words? Please keep in mind people have been calling me crazy forever. To be driven insane with Braxton’s passing? Ain’t I ashamed of myself for not talking this much about him when he was here. Let me say his name for all. Braxton Barks Bradford. That will bring on a few more bleeps and bloops from the hackers and scammers. My boy, his name, what a world
One in which I break down crying that I forgot to say goodnight to him on Friday. I can’t forget; I won’t allow myself to forget. Dammit, Madam Justice, it’s only been one month. The shortest month of the year, his birthday. B III would have been sixteen only now… Yeah, I’m not asking him what he wants for it. “More fries, Daddy. Can I have more fries?” A few fewer trips to McDonald’s. No more calls to Banfield or setting up appointments at the groomers. I’d gladly pay the price; at least then, my breaths would have some purpose. Braxton was worth every single one. I would talk to myself often enough, my Olds would tell you. At least with B, I could pretend.
It’s still called Denial. I speak in the mornings, at night, outings, and for medicine. Other than that, the house is dead silent, give or take background noises. It’s colder but without Braxton’s barks, breaths, or beating heart. The people outside are more annoying and enraging. Madam Justice, might I add forgetfulness. I don’t remember the last words I said to my son before the end. We were both quiet in the car because he no longer had the strength, and my words didn’t matter that trip. Actions, it’s the actions and what was mine, Betrayal. “I’ll help you,” “I tried,” I’m sorry,” “I love you,” “goodbye,” I am a broken record. “Let’s go home.”
Cheaper, of course, but to keep breathing? Hell’s My Debt. Cheap Words Cost More Breaths.
I Am Afraid Without Braxton