I’m wondering if Braxton found somebody like our friend Indiana Gone to type for him. Maybe his tiny, tiny paws can reach every button, thank you “Weird Things Couples Do With Their Dogs.” You Reading Me Braxton, I hope he knows I love him.
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