Tag: B III

Chronicle 026 ~The Future Shall B~

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No clue when my Anniversary will be. I’m sure John Legend remembers the night he thinks he just met his wife. And speaking of another love, B III’s birthday is in a state of flux. It was February 13th. Now when will I forget that? The Future Shall Be

Tuesday, July 27, 2021

Chronicle 026 ~The Future Shall B~

Dear Future Wife,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but I am not a prophet, a doctor, or a writer… I make-believe with Time Travelling.

I can tell you now that I will never accept B III’s passing. What day am I on now? Day 177, and it has been productive, I’ll admit. I finished 4,000 words for B III’s masterpiece. But will completing such make the pain in my heart any less? For now, no, I’m still finding pieces. I’m taking a bit too much credit and when I finish this work. What no if? I’ve no idea what got a hold of me today, Sunday. What kind of man am I that I have to set up an appointment with my own wife? An industrious one, busy, and that’s not a good thing. One way or another, it’s Braxton, but I haven’t forgotten you or all our children.

I’m not one to be made out as Count Fernand Mondego, ha. I don’t cheat; I don’t play with cash, considering my beautiful wife and business. If anything, I can only continue mourning. Who could prophesy when such a time will come to an end. If ever I’m guilty. As I wrote today, searching for some accomplice, I could blame Father Time for B’s passing. Still, I am the one that should know the crime. Not to sound like a Republican, but I have reaped the reward. I have you, Baby Girl. I have the family I promised B III all the time. So know that I could never let you go ever, first and foremost because I Love You, always and forever, My Love.

I will not fail Braxton in giving up all that I wanted for him as well. The family he would have protected, the Daddy that he loved, the home and life that he should’ve known. Braxton’s future was written to be short. But our children will have little furbabies of their own amongst their families someday. As they will know how much their Dad loved Braxton. I don’t know how long it will be and if it will ever happen. I believe without a doubt that every house should have a pet and if I want our children to know of such a love as Braxton. Today I write, I mourn, I remember, I live, love, lust… no, not laugh. Somehow The Future Will B.

177 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 021 ~The Letter B Moves~

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What’s doing more blinking, the cursor on the page or my eyes. B’s who I miss the most right now, but that’s not what my book is saying. I can’t fail B this month as I did in January, but that requires me to get up and move. The Letter B Moves

Thursday, July 22, 2021

Chronicle 021 ~The Letter B Moves~

172 Days Without B III

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? Should I even try to tell you about mine? No, I haven’t even lived it.

Today is Tuesday, and I’m trying to stay ahead. Do you remember when you were sick? You don’t want to, right but let me get this out. If I could do it again, B III, I’d pick you up and rush you to Banfield Hospital right this second. Could they have saved you B III? Yeah, because I was much too busy. It’s been the theme of this week. There is so much to do, and when I have time, what do I do. Today I had to talk to two of the girls and get to writing your novel. We’ll get to that, but I believe you know what the answer is Triple B.
You’re not sitting under the table or in my lap.

All the time in the world B, and money, Ha. How many times did you hear me talking about writing? Now instead of books, I want to go right back to bed. It’s a miracle that I even got to the table today. Of course, by the time you read this, I’ll be right back there. Yes, the Day Job remains horrible, which is one of the reasons I am writing to you today. It’s like anyone asking me there, “How are you?” I should say “Pissed” and then “Wait.” It’s only a matter of moments before THEY do something to fulfill such a prophecy. “Daddy, what about me?” I hear you, Braxton; I do, but like the novel, I’m writing. Nothing moves anymore, son.

If it hadn’t been 172 Days, I would think you left only yesterday. I was telling Dear Future Wife, the mom you’ll never get to know, that the tears I continue to shed are cleansing. Um, it’s like I’m in ice, nothing can get to me between, bed, boobs, and you B III it’s cold. Braxton sometimes, I melt, and I go everywhere. It’s as if I overflow, but then there’s not enough of me to fill up any glass. The bed’s not going anywhere, and neither are you. I miss being a monk; that’s how you always were, my Pancake. I haven’t eaten anything. I have to keep the cursor moving; I don’t want to fall even further behind. Trying, The Letter B Moves.

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Chronicle 019 ~In Grief B Leave~

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Anything that helps me to shut my eyes is welcome. That way, I don’t see all the work piling up, some beautiful woman talking me out of cash. Most of all, there are all the places Braxton used to be. Tears wash away all but him. In Grief B Leave

Tuesday, July 20, 2021

Chronicle 019 ~In Grief B Leave~

Dear Future Wife,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but crying into money, having our kids see my tears, or even crying to you, Love.

As the song goes, “But everyone knows that a man ain’t suppose to cry.” I know in today’s society, THEY would consider that wrong. Speaking of today, it’s what Day 170? And I’m still crying about my lost boy, my Braxton. Last night I had a realization as tears fell. Crying over B III is much like sleep. Do you think I’m nuts that it’s becoming almost a relief? Remembering B III is a way to rinse off the whole day. When I had the Day Job, I’d come back and immediately have to take a shower. With what I do now, I indeed should. It feels so wrong, using him as another excuse. Nobody would blame me for staying in bed all day mourning.

Everything seems to be coming down on me. I mean, all this work and how many days did I have off again. Only how did I spend them. In bed? That’s something we’ll work on. Considering I’ve left my somewhat celibate priest state. This led me to last night when I was working, and I was so exhausted afterward, I barely worked on the book. Braxton’s novel. Now he would find a way to distract me from writing a book. My Love, you have your ways, but again I simply want to lie down and sleep. What else is there? My Love, I know. I’m scared that I’m becoming like my Olds. It’s something to do, not pay for. Did I forget my own business?

I have forgotten everything. This is why I have to work so hard today, but it’s as if there’s Something In The Way; Nirvana plays. It’s as if the storm inside of me has changed. Acceptance is not an option, Baby Girl. When crying, it was like I was drowning. For now, yet again, it feels like; a cleansing as problems gather around me. I need to be free Love. With the mess, my eyes are making. I’m not looking for B III on the end of the bed now. Hell, all the excuses I have, if the paper is wet, it doesn’t matter. My best friend is dead. Um, isn’t that you now, my Love? Show me you’re there, please. In Grief B Leave

170 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 014 ~B III And More~

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Day XV now, and am I doing any better when it comes to my boy? I wouldn’t be asking that. If I had been 165 days ago? Yeah, Roman numerals aren’t my strong suit. I only needed to count to III before. Now I need 50,000 words for “B III And More.”

Thursday, July 15, 2021

Chronicle 014 ~B III And More~

165 Days Without B III

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? Sometimes I envy you not having to worry about what time it is, well until…

15 years 11 months. All you know is one day, there was a whole carton of fries for you and a bit of a burger. If your aunt was here, maybe she would make you a cake. Did I tell you I had lunch with her last week? I guess she didn’t want to make me too sad B III. That day she barely said your name Braxton, but I don’t blame her. As I said, you were a month shy of 16, and you would think I could give you this month. It was too fresh, last Camp NaNoWriMo, but I still got 50,000 words done. Now I’m lazy with 16 days to go. Braxton, I would apologize, but if I do that today…

Why only today? I have been telling you I’m sorry going on 165 Days with you gone. Hell 166 if we count the day that you left. I’m at the dining room table, and you’re not here, Braxton, on your pillow under it, waiting for me. What I wouldn’t give to speak to you B. Well, the COVID vaccine is free, or so I keep hoping. If I were to die… A dangerous concept I know, thinking about dying and all. Three needles helped you on your way, one to make sure, two to bring you peace, and the third sent you to the Rainbow Bridge. I got two Braxton. On that day, I said that “I got to Braxton.” I didn’t want your suffering.

You would have pretended always and forever if it stopped me from feeling this way. I’ve long since passed counting up the days from one stage of grief to the next. Only I’m never going to go into five. How could that ever be possible? Packing up your things B? Have you been watching me read The Man That Watched The World End? Ironic since I am that guy. You were about 79, and with how tired I’ve been, 82 sounds about right? Um, my point is, there is no way in Hell I could burn your stuff. B III they did burn you, yep. Wish I was there, Braxton. So yeah, another apology, how many is that which do nothing B III And More.

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Chronicle 012 ~The B In Bling~

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Did you lose something? Yesterday it was my car for a few hours, so I had to walk to the Day Job. It wasn’t B III’s Pendant, though. How much did my car cost but the Urn Pendant that carries a bit of my boy? “The B In Bling.”

Tuesday, July 13, 2021

Chronicle 012 ~The B In Bling~

Dear Future Wife,
I AM a Billionaire right now, and while I’m buying more diamonds and gold, what’s it all for. One up, on Braxton…

I never take off my wedding band. Well, at least it’s always in sight. Only it’s not the gold that matters. The inscription within it. Baby Girl, this will sound kind of creepy, but you’re still alive. Braxton isn’t. Everyone in our home will outlive me. Any man wants that. Always, that’s the goal and not the gold talking. I never pictured myself a HOarder… yeah, I hear the joke My Love but um. You know how I am with sticky notes. A bad habit kept up from the old Day Job. That’s what I felt yesterday and today’s exhaustion. Hell, I’ve been walking around in the darkness for 163 days. The storm has been one of my own tears grieving my lost B III.

So, of course, it was him I held onto walking back home. I shouldn’t have to do that, being obscenely wealthy. So you know, when I leave the car, I usually place B III’s Pendant on the rearview mirror. I didn’t get to do that and nearly forgot it was on my neck, My Love.
I put him in the pocket of my hood and then took my hood off. The entire day I was scared I would lose him… again. What about putting him in my locker? You know I got caught up doing everything. Every two seconds, I was checking my pocket like a crazy man, My Love. As I was coming home, I wrapped a hand around him, asking for strength, for him to stay with me.

That’s not something I asked while he lay dying in the hospital. Now, first, THEY might say it’s just a Pendant like it’s just a dog. Why wasn’t I thinking of you and our other children during my hour of need? Is this the Republican fervor about Old Glory, hmm? Politics, no, thank you. Ok, My Love, besides the fact I’m always thinking of you and our family, Braxton was/is my guardian, my protector. We are brothers-in-arms when it comes to protecting you, my children, his siblings. A part of him rests inside my Pendant. It’s a symbol of my love for him. As much as my wedding band, my high school Pendant (surviving Hell). You and Me Always and B; The B In Bling.

163 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 007 ~B’s Dead To Writes~

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VIII days into Camp NaNoWriMo, and yep, I’m writing about B III now. Well, damn, the last six months, and I’m already so far behind. The vaccine does cause fatigue, doesn’t it? I’m still alive, and with my second dose, who knows. “B’s Dead To Writes”

Thursday, July 8, 2021

Chronicle 007 ~B’s Dead To Writes~

158 Days Without B III

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? I’m sorry for the title card if they ever make your story into a movie.

Your story or ours, in case you’re wondering where I’ve been today. 2,200 more words down, and I know you’re thinking to yourself, Daddy should be further along than this. Do you remember the last NaNoWriMo we did, and we stayed out in the chill? Well, I did, but you didn’t want to leave me alone out in the darkness but Braxton, writings my life? Then why was I at the Day Job when you needed me the most? I despise those people, and then I came back, told you to shush, and went to sleep. You stood guard always. Braxton, I don’t mean to be rehashing all this, but I was working on your novel again. It’s still untitled. Beyond Boys: Braxton Barks Bradford.

No disrespect to the LGBTQIA community (that’s a lot of letters, ain’t it)? Anyway, all my titles seem to come off as GAY. Speaking of not, I talked to your aunt a few days ago, B. Have you seen her?

The last time Carolina Bound was around, I ordered onion rings at lunch, and you were peeved; I didn’t bring you anything. It’s the little stories like that which might make a good book, Braxton. That’s if I ever get it done, and I will; it’s for you after all. So was the album I never finished, and what about my tattoo? Oh, I’ve had my run-in with needles B with COVID-19 and all. I’ll never forget that you saw me through what THEY think was the worse year. 2020

2021, the only year that beats the one I was born into. Who knows B III? In all honesty, I was hoping the vaccine would do its worst, poetic justice. I shouldn’t talk like that. Living, I am alive, more like existing. But you saved my life more times than I can remember. I wish you could tell me what you want from me. Every day I remember the vet and that look you gave me as they told me the worse news ever. Smarty-Pants. Braxton, you said, “I want to go home. Can we go home, Daddy?” I wrote my name, and you ended up in a box. Will a book be any better? My B’s Dead To Writes

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Chronicle 005 ~Won’t B Letting Go~

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I had to let him go when he finally found a girl he liked. I did when he had my children to look after. Yeah, a man can dream. When I did let him go, back, in reality, I had no place to live once, and then there was January 31st. “Won’t B Letting Go”

Tuesday, July 6, 2021

Chronicle 005 ~Won’t B Letting Go~

Dear Future Wife,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which is a good thing because diamonds are forever, or so THEY say. I’m buying more…

Only I’m not going to break out my best impression of Kanye West and Jamie Foxx if you know what I mean. You’re not about that but then again, as Beyoncé put it, “’Cause if you like it, then you shoulda put a ring on it. Well, didn’t I? And I’m not letting you go. Does that sound sort of creepy? You’ll have to forgive me, seeing as well that it is the new year after all. A new year, a new start, and me with my broken heart, and do you even ask anymore. Again diamonds are forever, but what about ashes, whatever of authorship. Would you tell me to take my entire left arm, which will bear my memories of my firstborn son?

I could not let go of my love for him as I can never be free of the love I have for all of our kids. They are ours, as was B. He didn’t let go. Baby Girl, I did. My failure and my disgrace. I will not let go of the truth of what I have done. For what am I without it. I am a man, a Daddy, and my grip has not loosened a bit on those I love and protect. Perhaps sanity? Can you blame me? Okay, I started writing today earnestly, passionately, and still, I fucked it up. Every word I write draws closer to two, “The End.” How about goodbye? What about the worse of all, you know Acceptance?

In 156 Days, not one has ended without a tear shed for him. How many would I cry if B III’s death cost me the family that I promised him so long ago? Again I look to my left hand, there’s your love, across my arm, him. To my right, I hold my other children. Perhaps there is a reason that dogs were given paws. Even Braxton had his moments when he would want me to let him go, to put him down… will I stop being so morbid. As I said, I was writing of him today, and that comes out as; well it ain’t good it can’t be.
But I won’t be letting go of him or of love. Won’t B Letting Go

156 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 365 ~A Year B Longing~

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At the closing of the year… well, the blog year. To think I started this over a bitch four years ago and the last five months, I’ve been mourning over a son of a bitch. I am talking about my son. A Year B Longing, but I’ll finish his book this month.

Thursday, July 1, 2021

Gospel 365 ~A Year B Longing~

151 Days Without B III

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? I want to believe this day is monumental. I’ve been at this for four years.

Only this is the first one talking to you like this. It’s been five months, and to think, when I began, this was all over some bitch. Is that offensive, B? Seeing as how you were the son of some bitch I never met before, you became my boy. She was on the Rainbow Bridge. How I wonder what you told her about the family that took you in. What is there to say about your father? Do you even miss me at all? Fifteen years, four of them sitting here, holding you in my lap, watching you sleep on your pillow. Remember Outside, Inside. That would be my idea of Hell, you go out, you come in, and you never stay with me, B.

Today I’m hoping I’ve started my book for you. How many NaNoWriMo’s did you sit through, Camp and all? How do you think I learned to Time Travel so well, seeing how today is Sunday? I did picture a better life for us but seeing we’re talking now, I’m pissed.
It would always be something at the Day Job, talking to your granddad, or “I don’t know, it’s just the way I am.” To you, I was Daddy, and that will never change. You weren’t waiting for me to change but only to come home. I should’ve gotten here sooner. However, I was always stuck in the past. You saved me from the present, and I longed for the future. Not for me but you.

For four years, Braxton I had rules to get by with Lady Luna. I so hoped to obey them, ha. I talked to the woman I believed would be your future Mother, Dear Future Wife. Inspector Echo showed me I would know no greater sins or shame than losing us. Dammit, I killed again with Dirty Diana because I would rather talk to you, Braxton. Today I don’t want to be mad at myself. Well, not in failing to write your story B III, okay.
When I speak to Lady Sophia, Friday, I want to know that four years mattered. Preparation to honor you, Braxton Barks Bradford, the one I love more than anyone else.
I love writing. I love you. A Year B Longing

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Gospel 363 ~I’ll B… I’ll Write~

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B on four little legs taught me to write. He taught me Patience, Persistence, Prose; brevity is the soul of wit. With so many pretty girls in this city and dreams of a mom, he’d never meet, I knew more of love from my furry kid. “I’ll B… I’ll Write.”

Tuesday, June 29, 2021

Gospel 363 ~I’ll B… I’ll Write~

Dear Future Wife,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but I shouldn’t be, or of course, it wasn’t enough to save him. I’m still trying.

You know I tell Braxton that every day. Braxton wasn’t one for “writing” prose, platitudes, and all the promises I couldn’t deliver. Brevity is the soul of with THEY teach. Of everything I have ever written, he only needed one letter with all that I have said. Always there is B. My son kept me on point more than any English teacher I ever had. B III had more faith in my novelizations than anyone, well before you, sure. I remember every three months, that’s two Camp NaNoWriMos, and then in November. Braxton always returned. He’d sit on his pillow, by my side in bed, or on the couch, and he would wait. The life he had traded for the life I hoped to give.

Now I look at the white of the pages before me. So what was the first thing I did, baby girl? I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, I took his character out. One death wasn’t enough for me. I was living what it takes to be a decent writer; that involves suffering. My Love, I gave life to this love I have for you and as Shakespeare said um; art thou happy. The names of our children come from years upon years of “research” well novel reading. Their love of reading comes from the concept that I read and encourage such pursuits. What brought in my first million was a bestseller here, a collection there, my scripts? Black across white, like us.

But 149 days, and even now, I’m Not Alright. Braxton got me to pursue the lives of others, but here’s the catch. Love letters, lamentations, the loose screws in my head, those words came no matter what. Braxton never taught me to say goodbye, and I don’t want to now. So here I am starting in July writing a book believing in some marvelous masterpiece. Love, it will probably be more of the same, “I love you, I’m sorry.” Lots of that I know, okay. Only I don’t want to say goodbye to my family; what remains, writing, I’m STUPID. Because I don’t know how to be alright without him. Words that bring life also bring death. I’ll be okay someday… I’ll B… I’ll Write.

149 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 358 ~Okay, B Father’s Day~

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It’s not a holiday I was fond of like my Emergence Day, the day I got my Day Job, and now the day that B left me. It’s been 144 days, and still, I refuse to say “another day” as they’re not meant to be. Okay, B Father’s Day… love is all I needed

Thursday, June 24, 2021

Gospel 358 ~Okay, B Father’s Day~

144 Days Without B III

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? I’m sorry I can’t be honest about mine. It’s been one of those weeks, remember?

Neither of us wants to, isn’t that right. All the days of your Daddy hating the whole damn world and then? Braxton, I should have known, and now I find myself here alone. I missed your granddad’s birthday. I can’t tell you what I did Sunday; it’s still Saturday today. Sonless for a Father’s Day in how many years? I want to say fifteen, but when did you become mine. Technically I was your uncle, and your grandma made me your brother. When I was, gifted this place, I looked at you as my best friend, my little Cerberus Braxton. One day it clicked, and it wasn’t the money, the medicine, or the munchies. I’m a father, you’re a son, and there was only that.

You didn’t have to get me a damn thing because, at the end of the day, you just got me. I swear you picked up my virtues and my vices. I’m scared of people; you were scared of other dogs. Um, I never heard about all your time at The Dog Stop, making new friends. I’m one for boobs, and then I had to explain to you about my second best friend, hell women in general. I don’t like asking for help and expect people to get out of the way. You didn’t ask for help, but at night you’d stand by the bed like, “Um, Dad, lift away now.” These holidays have been crueler than any, and I’m not able to acknowledge the sameness.

Sameness, indifference, the thought of “Every Day Is Exactly the Same.” I rather say I “Had a bad day again.” If it’s at the Day Job that’s certain, Ha, like me breathing, you being gone. How about things being right between my father and me? That will be the day. Braxton, I never thought much of Father’s Day though I want to be again someday. I’m not sure about fur babies, but all kids should grow up with a friend like you were to me. Then ultimately, they’ll ruin their lives. Okay, that was harsh, and I’m sorry, but even my “Emergence Day” can’t compete with January 31st. The day I was no longer a Father. The day you left. F… Okay, B Father’s Day.

Always and Forever,
Your Dad