Tag: Dog

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 015 ~B Not Another Day~

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Did this day stand out in any way other than “That’s How You Know You Messed Up?” At least I have an idea for another chapter of Braxton’s book. If I am writing Braxton’s book. I’m not even at 25,000 words yet. “B Not Another Day”

Friday, July 16, 2021

Chronicle 015 ~B Not Another Day~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, or I would be; if I were more creative and not working the Day Job. Time-Travel

Back to those vet visits in February, and no, not the last one. I mean, the ones I knew B III would be leaving ok and alive. It wasn’t a holiday but a mark on the passage of time. I’d take him in for his yearly exam, and then the idea was to keep him out of there till next. To be fair, this year, his appointment was on January 8, 2021. Then there was the 29th and finally the 31st. Of course, what he didn’t see in February was his 16th birthday. A trip to the vet and his birthday netted the same reward… McDonald’s. B’s birthday was more. Now, if you’re wondering why I’m going over B’s history, yes, there is his book.

I’m trying to find days that were “important” to us and had an actual date too. For example, I’ve said that my “Emergence Day” is no longer the worst day of my life. Yet B was here to see me through 15 of them. I sooner do his math than mine, and so 166 Days. Come November, Thanksgiving Day, which to B III was his Christmas. There was more than enough for us both when my mom would deliver our meal. I’ve said it feels weird when I don’t have to share. These eyes are bigger than my stomach, I told his aunt at lunch. Now that wasn’t another day. Life attempts to be Every Day Is Exactly the Same, but Everything Is Different Now.

Like Christmas, do I go and visit my Olds? Hell, could I do that even if I wanted to for brunch? I wouldn’t go because B III wasn’t invited. It’s not like the two of us celebrated but isn’t that a time for family. When/If I have some family, don’t I plan on it, Sophia? How I wish to remember the day that B hopped in the car, and we drove away, us two ha. I want the day back when we sat on the porch, and I said, “It’s just us now B III, ok?” What about the day before when I finally came back to my Olds, and B III saw me, sniffles? I’m listening to his playlist because; B Not Another Day.

166 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 008 ~A Chapter To B~

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Friday, July 9, 2021

Chronicle 008 ~A Chapter To B~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, so does that mean I can finally get some sleep? Seeing how far I’ve come now…

Hell No! If anything, I owe 3000 words. Maybe less if you count all of my B III letters. The truth is, for today, I’m pretty wiped out, and I still have much farther to go. I do mean outside the house. At least I have been writing about Braxton in novel form every day. Okay, that’s a lie. I added a hundred words on NaNoWriMo once so I could win the daily badge. Being a half-ass writer as I was being a half-ass Daddy. So what is my excuse this week, other than the vaccine’s side effects? “Fatigue” sounds like a made-up word Sophia. If I haven’t said it before (yeah, right), I got my second dose coming up. There’s also lunch with Carolina.

Other than work and keeping myself existing, my story has been within these walls. I had the silly notion last night that I would go to the movies today. So I’m all dressed up, but that’s because again, (ahem) EXISTENCE, EXISTENCE, EXISTENCE! Too much! Today going on and on about Braxton got me into such a mood and not really “Fiddler on the Roof.” I’m more like “In The Sun” is that why I’m wearing my yellow hoodie today? Again not Acceptance. I’ll never get tired of the color black and B’s hippy collar. So you’re asking why I am not telling a B III story right this second. After 2,300 words, would Braxton be sick of hearing about himself? And yeah, I still suck.

Even Facebook nailed me talking about the vaccine the other day and dying. Hmm, I’d be worried if I didn’t know that I would get my ass up and go whenever the Day Job calls. If B III hadn’t been suffering, I would have held him and never ventured out. Interesting, another story Lady Sophia, the path not taken. They could have given him medicine to make him eat. Braxton would never make it to 100%, but he would have lived longer. I’m never one to put something off unless it’s good for me. Braxton’s life, publishing a book, games, movies, music. As the song goes, “Why do the things I hate come so naturally?” A life without B, Lady Sophia? A Chapter To B

159 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

Chronicle 001 ~Life On The B-Side~

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Five years ago today, I started writing this blog. An anniversary… you know if you’ve been reading how I feel about holidays… anyone, anyone? To think, when I started, it was because of a “girl” and now the loss of my little boy. “Life On The B-Side”

Friday, July 2, 2021

Chronicle 001 ~Life On The B-Side~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now. Would that be enough for paradise, Heaven? “Oh, where, oh where has my little dog gone?”

My Lady, this isn’t how I wanted to start the “Chronicles….” Yes, this is the hill I’ll die on, as THEY say. I hoped I had more time to think about it, but seeing how I’m talking to you on a Tuesday afternoon. Say it with me, AHEM, TIME TRAVEL, TIME TRAVEL. So work sucks. Now I mean the Day Job without question, and didn’t I admit today that I love writing. However, something I love to accomplish, playing God. Another famous writer wrote this. “God Is Cruel.” Forgive me, Sophia, for daring to think so presumptuous as fucking right. Aren’t I full of books today, first Stephen King? And now Margaret Atwood with “Under His Eye.” I feel Braxton today. Every moment, I disappoint.

Here I am at the beginning of my fifth year of blogging, and to be honest, I can’t really remember why I started. Dammit, the Basic Bitch, but it was the PAIN, want of lust. Writing is me at my most masochistic. One more reason in a hundred, a thousand. Could it be a million that I miss my son? To think if he were here now, little dæmon Braxton. Am I writing about him today? Did I yesterday? Again I’m looking ahead. Only I never saw his death coming. Yet one more painful moment kick-starting my writing once again. Because with enough pain Lady Sophia, I will become the man I wish to be. A billionaire, a bad man, someone who belongs on Earth.

I was already that and more when Braxton would look up at me from his pillow. Five years ago, when I wrote of the Basic Bitch, I wanted to prove I wasn’t the man she thought I was. I want to show Braxton that I am the man he believed in with his last breath. Sophia, be it the Rainbow Bridge or wherever he’s watching me, he lives in me. And I want to quit being this failure, fiend, and fuck-up. I am his father, his daddy, the man who will tell his story to the world. I didn’t do so much of that today, sigh Time Travel. Today should be meaningful, don’t you think. Braxton should’ve known the A-Side, but… Life On The B-Side.

152 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