Smells Like Teen Spirit or worse. B was only fifteen. But I’m thirty-eight, crying over a second year without my son. He’d be eighteen come February 13. And I haven’t washed his bed since he passed. The smell… um, no, that’s me. Breathe, Virgil And B
Thursday, February 2, 2023
Saga 216 ~Breathe, Virgil And B~
732 Days Without B III, Day 173 of Virgil’s Arrival
Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? I remember how you used to dance, wag your tail, and your footsteps. Little toesy-wosies…
Oh, how long did it take me to learn English after you left? Uh, you’d listen to me rant, B. But of course, I’d rather not today. Only you wouldn’t have me crying either, Braxton. Confession was earlier this morning, Wednesday, February 1, 2023. I am still afraid, B III. Cooking something to eat? You’ll be happy to know I have food left from the funeral. No, not yours. I’m sort of pissed about that. It’s tradition. Barbeque… Piggie Potato. Yesterday, I wanted both. Only since the place I got my first meal without you sucks at making a Piggie Potato… Well, a part of you says I’m thinking about myself. But no B III. Well, other than the fact I stink… I don’t know.
Not any people around here to make me nervous. I swear I should have had you registered as Emotional Support. As for Virgil… He’s still breathing. A low blow Braxton? Please, he’s only been here about six months. Call me in fifteen years, eleven months. Actually, call me sooner, Braxton. I won’t forget about you. But then, forgetting myself, B? How I wish I could B III. For real, I want to forget about that damn funeral and my funk. One more reason I’m going to go ahead and finish that food from the funeral. And I can hope that I don’t hear from your grandparents for a while. All that’s taking me away, B. That’s how I lost you, B. Holding my breath boy
Barely. Forgetting. And not wanting to breathe. Being around people B III. It’s like I don’t have the right to be alive. I want to be so small. But you are my world, a god, and even a titan. And on today of all days, I remember carrying you dying. The smell of my failure. All I need is the air that I breathe. And if that meant I could keep you alive without pain. If I had to carry you around to keep you with me, B. I wouldn’t mind at all. Not ever. Always and forever, that smell I couldn’t put my finger on, holding you. Those McDonald’s fries you loved. Braxton, you’re my reason to breathe… and smell. Breathe, Virgil And B
Always and Forever,
Your Dad