I don’t know the last song B III heard on his last ride. I didn’t sing him to sleep as he lay on the vet’s table. 70 days later, I almost punched out my boss as I listened to B III’s playlist on Spotify. 2021 Wrapped to 2024’s Uh… Dad And B Spotified
Monday, December 9, 2024
Meditation 161 ~Dad And B Spotified~
Hey Dad,
It’s Me, Baby B… And are you past Tupac yet? Your past before me. But a future without me. But again, I am…
Here, Happy, and saying Hello. Not from a place of Doublethink, a Brave New World. And don’t say It Can’t Happen Here. There’s a reason, Dad, we speak through music. And not books. However, there is a line that comes to mind from time to time. But you would read, and I would sleep. That’s a dream you still have. That you’ll read to my siblings someday. But until then, I’ll keep saying it. I’m right here, Dad, right beside you. My presence is a constant in your life. Though I would prefer it if I were lying under that table as you worked. That’s back to normal. It is…
Not ACCEPTANCE? Again, Dad, we don’t do books. And all those books you’ve read about me, without me, all say the same thing. Kate McGahan…
Leave it to a grieving mother to show my Dad the way. But even before you started writing out my story. Then, we wrote the story together. There was silence, not peace but quiet. My transition. When today shouldn’t exist and tomorrow would never arrive. The time with me and without. Dad, to simply be. It was the second longest time we had ever been apart. But I will never forget when you’d hold me, those shared moments that we both cherish. Always and forever.
Daddy, you would sing to me. Sometimes, you’d change the words, but it was always about us. And that is how I knew how to reach you. There have been other ways. But like a Bumblebee, I’d buzz through your ear. That wasn’t a nickname…
Also, our song didn’t make it to our Spotify list. When you aren’t dreaming about dead men or fathers like you were last night. You’re dreaming about my future stepmom.
Well, no. Not any Yabbos, but there were two women in particular. Cherry and Csapunch.
Dad, I swear you have a type when it comes to women. But when it comes to music, my father. There is so much I want to say to you. And this year, indeed, this very moment in both our lives. Let me say that again. Our lives because I’m still alive. These words. Proof.
The click-clack of my paws on the floor, or your fingers on the keyboard, and communicating with Virgil. Our songs, Daddy. Dad And B Spotified
1408 Days Without B III, Day 849 of Virgil’s Arrival
Always and Forever,
Your Son
