Monday, April 28, 2025

Meditation 301 ~There’ll B Time, Dad~

Hey Dad,
It’s Me, Baby B… “And it’s not too late. It’s Never Too Late.” To what, hear the truth. Neither of us wants that.

“Should I say it out loud?

Yeah, I should. You can’t heal something unless you’re brave enough to say it out loud.

I’m scared, though. I’m scared to say it… which is why I have to.

Say the thing you’re afraid to say. I can help you. Say it out loud, no matter what it is, no matter how bad. I promise, I will help”
― The Last of Us

We’re not Republicans. We’re not MAGA, my father. You’re not screaming, “I don’t want reality.” Dad, you’re brave enough to face reality, risk, and the real. And what is that?

Well, if you’re going to be stuck in the past. Listen to me, Dad. Why can’t we be stuck together in those car rides listening to ROCK music? However, I would prefer you weren’t listening to this particular song from Three Days Grace, “Never Too Late.” Seriously, Daddy, I was so young; one or two when that came out. I hated car rides, not music.

Speaking of which, I remember when you came back, not from the bad place but somewhere you would write without me. I want to see you like that again, Daddy.

Because there will always be time to be sad, scared, to sing of “The Cursed Earth.” But to remember my little brother Virgil. Not your other son, but your son. When you and he walked along the same path we once did, before I got old, fat, and sassy. How I miss those fried stick thingies you would buy. Those days, my grandma would bring a lot of food. Or when you’d say, “Well, it’s E-Day.” And you’d be sad, but lobster and steak, Daddy. Honestly, why do you think I love my favorite girl so much? Yes, she had big, soft yabbos she’d let me lie on, but she also shared plenty of good things. Like my Dad being…

Happy? Now, that wasn’t you.

But there’s time, Dad. And that’s what has been bothering you for months. There is no time to make money. The Day Job, writing, and anything else you could imagine.

Honestly, you’ve been reliving the moment you would never see me again. B free indeed. But isn’t it time to be free of all that frightens you, of the very concept of fear, the fiend?

Because that is not my father in the mirror, but the man before my eyes, who lives by three words when it comes to me, Whatever It Takes. You will see me again, Daddy. Believe.

Someday, I’ll be the book on the shelf, the blush on a lover’s cheeks. A two-legged baby, perhaps. Because there’s time. There’ll B Time, Dad

“Funny how you can live a whole life waiting and not know it.”
From ― Peter Heller, The Dog Stars

“If you weep not now, when will you ever weep?
From ― Dante Alighieri, Inferno

1548 Days Without B III, Day 989 of Virgil’s Arrival

Always and Forever,
Your Son

Monday, April 21, 2025

Meditation 294 ~To B At Peace~

Hey Dad,
It’s Me, Baby B… “Can you feel that? Ah, sh*t. Ooh, wah-ah-ah-ah!” I’ll leave the singing to you, my father. I still bark.

But not now. You used to say that my barking said more than most humans. And at least when I barked, I was helping you out. We agree that most humans make too much noise. There are exceptions to that. My favorite girl, the future stepmom I never met. Cherry.

And what about my little brother, Virgil? I wish you so many things, my father. Somehow, someway, someday, today, I want you to be at peace. I wish you peace. Peace be unto you, my father. I know I’m getting a bit preachy. A little biblical… Like father, like son. But neither of us would be found in a church. Yesterday was Easter. So, dinner…

You know me. Food always made me feel better. Until…

Um that’s not what I came to talk to you about now. My resting in peace and all. No dad.

How can I sleep when I can feel it all the way from here? The Rainbow Bridge? Elysium or whatever. That big bed in the middle of our sunny backyard with food on every side.

Your depression and the danger you wake up to when you head to that bad place. You said that’s how you got me those fried golden sticks. But now what you feel the most is DESPAIR. What’s one more human word? You would cuddle me and tell me so many.

But peace? Even if I don’t understand it, I have seen it, my father, last night as Virgil cuddled you.

And all those nights we would spend with my favorite girl watching the glowing box.

There were the days after you came from the bad place and fell asleep. And as you closed your eyes you’d watch me sitting at the corner of the bed. You’d come to no harm.

However, when it was your turn, I’d sleep on your heart as you read books. And there were all the times I would lay on my pillow at your feet, and you’d write your stories.

There were days you would breathe afterward as if the greatest task ever was done. Sometimes, you’d kick me out to do “whatever,” watching certain things. You’d be finished, clear. Always unto you be peace, Dad. To B At Peace

“Why don’t we have a word for the utterance between laughing and crying?”
Peter Heller, The Dog Stars

“Because your question searches for deep meaning,
I shall explain in simple words”
― Dante Alighieri, Inferno

1541 Days Without B III, Day 982 of Virgil’s Arrival

Always and Forever,
Your Son