Tag: Hear

Tale 325 ~Virgil Can B Choosy~

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Do I have a choice? Yes. It’s why I look in the mirror, not the nightstand drawer. What? The world’s dangerous, and there’s Heaven, Hell, or the Rainbow Bridge, which I believe my Braxton found. But it wasn’t his choice. Virgil Can B Choosy

Tuesday, May 21, 2024

Tale 325 ~Virgil Can B Choosy~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right… A choice? Sure. One that can’t be undone. Our children. My son, Braxton. Even Virgil.

The things that come into my world. But I didn’t choose the world. It’s been a hard few days living in it. And yes, if my B were still here, the past 1206 days would have been no question. Now, that is a lie. But like the promise I made to you. Always and forever.

Whenever I walked out the door, there were three phrases, three words each. “I’ll be back,” “Love ya, B,” and “Love ya Braxton.” No matter what happened, I love Braxton.

That was enough to survive, whatever. And then you ask, what about you? The kids? It’s my choice to come back to my family. I choose you, lover, every day. But it’s a hard choice. I know I sound selfish.

It’s like looking in a mirror. When I see myself even after all this time. I want to do my best Johnny Cash impression. “I hurt myself today.” If I could see myself like Braxton.

Pure love. I’ve told the story time and time again of when my Olds were moving, and Braxton was standing there. “Get in the car!” I yelled. Braxton did not hesitate. He made his choice. B III didn’t know where it would lead, but that choice to love was enough.

Virgil didn’t get that choice. And you, my love, didn’t choose to love, whatever it is I have become. A man of constant sorrow. Because even the choice of me getting up seems too much.

I wake up feeling robbed.

Braxton wasn’t stolen. If I blame anyone for his passing, it’s a former Day Job and my indifference. And that’s why “I Feel Everything.” Grief and sorrow seem the safest.

There was a time when I existed as “lust’s passion will be served…” As if that’s changed with all I do. I’m still in business, after all. The books, babes, and bucks. I want it all. Braxton, though, will not be a part of that. And now choosing to be here. Right here, this moment.

“It’s All Coming Back To Me Now.” A thousand choices shout praises! But make one.

Loving you? I will. Doing right by family. Yes. Existing without my boy? I’m here!

Choose to be happy? Staying enough? Virgil Can B Choosy

1206 Days Without B III, Day 647 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 318 ~Virgil’s Drowning Risk B~

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My fears? Braxton’s passing, which I survived… My Olds who are very much alive, and neither one has put me in the ground yet. Then drowning. I even turned off Far Cry 5 when I saw that happening. But Virgil is off and crying? Virgil’s Drowning Risk B

Tuesday, May 14, 2024

Tale 318 ~Virgil’s Drowning Risk B~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right… Enough to keep your head above water. Or do I lay my coat over puddles at your feet, my love?

Do I want to be a gentleman today? As with most days—well, let’s say 1199 of them—I want to be a man. I won’t say a happy man, but a man provides. And I’m trying. I always am.

But, my Braxton is gone.

Again, I’m trying to keep Virgil from the same fate. For as long as I can. He has a veterinary appointment tomorrow, so AHEM:

“Shots,
shots,
shots,
shots,
shots,
shots!”

Not a day goes by that I don’t remember the last two that B took. Or was it three? Hmm.

“Shot through the heart, and you’re to blame.” I did that to my furry son. And now to my lovely wife? You’re still here, but Braxton isn’t. What about me?

I’m keeping my head above water. But nobody likes seeing that. So I’m lying here. Waking up, I gasp for air with an expletive upon my lips. No wonder Virgil stays off the bed. And our other children? If I can go through the day without mentioning Braxton. Or saying anything scandalous or scary or that makes someone else sad. Not even now, love. As I can exist… without happiness. I can’t without sadness or FEAR. It won’t go away.

If I am going to wake up wet, with bad words, and wanting another baby. I’d rather be with you, yeah. You keep drowning me in your love. Are you crying from all the laughter, pleasure from… or relief from me not talking about Braxton?

Sigh. Even a sigh means that I’m still breathing. I’m alive. Only the flooding never stops, my love. It’s been raining for so long. And I’m sure even Braxton’s Aunt has grown sick of me. She said she would bring a boat if we ever had another situation like Noah and God’s Wrath, as read in the Bible. But both she and you never knew it would be B III’s passing that would bring this.

I understand what you’re asking of me. I’m a drowning man pulling you under. You’re asking me, when will I grow. Life gave me lemons; I can’t make it lemonade. And I’ll make apple juice because I need to see a doctor. And no man is an island. Water, water, everywhere. Virgil’s Drowning Risk B

1199 Days Without B III, Day 640 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 311 ~Virgil, That’ll B Love~

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Love’s not out there. There’s not much love in here, either. If I want to find Love and Happiness. Can I do better than an Al Green song? There are books on love. I don’t have pretty women waitin’ out there. And B’s gone. Virgil, That’ll B Love.

Tuesday, May 7, 2024

Tale 311 ~Virgil, That’ll B Love~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right… Always, be it all of two seconds, twenty seconds of insane courage, or the best thirty seconds of my life. (Snickers).

Give me a minute, my love. Am I trying to be funny? Perhaps because laughter is my shield against tears. They say if you can make a woman laugh, you can make her do anything. But if you can make a woman cry… I don’t want to do that unless it’s tears of joy that I’ve brought to your eyes.

I lost happiness way before I lost my firstborn, and I’ve only been out looking for one. I swear love has many different faces. And nowadays, all I see is tears in the eyes of all those around me. But I don’t count myself in that. My tears are all for my son, my Braxton.

God is love? Braxton is love. So are you. But what comes through that door…

You know me, my love. I’m no conservative. A man of tradition? A man provides. Husbands, Fathers, and real men do that. Mine did that. And I had the things I had before you, even before B III. How can I say that he doesn’t love me? I fear I can’t do the same for our family. Fixing things, Grieving…

Again, a man provides, and that has to be enough—all the money in the world. So, I call myself a man because I give this family what it needs. You’ll never go without—ever!

Virgil, our furry “son.” seems to sense my unease. He’s eating well, has his bed and comfy spots, and has even given you more room since he no longer sleeps on the bed. His eyes, like the flickering signal on our DISH Network, tell a different story. They reflect the uncertainty and worry that I’m grappling with. Blankness and emptiness

Love, my dear, is a force that can transcend financial constraints. It’s about the intangible things that money can’t buy, the things that all the wealth in the world couldn’t have saved Braxton from. Yet, I believe in its power. Would I have noticed his condition sooner if I hadn’t been so consumed with work? I wonder, love. These are the questions that haunt me.

Let me tell you what I don’t see: love being advertised, even with all the Mother’s Day stuff everywhere. I’ll always love my Mama, but I hope she takes that love and passes it to her grandchildren and Virgil, too. I love you and hope you take it for our little ones and, yes, Virgil as well. But love for me? To be open instead of broken. Everything is broken, always. Virgil, That’ll B Love

1192 Days Without B III, Day 633 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 304 ~Virgil, Time To B~

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What time is it? Before writing wedding vows, I’ll list the top ten questions I hate the most. Like, what are you reading? It’s even furry kids or flirty women. Either way, they go down. Eww! No time for g-d jokes. “Virgil, Time To B.”

Tuesday, April 30, 2024

Tale 304 ~Virgil, Time To B~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right… My love for you is boundless; it’s a feeling that grows with each passing day. If life is a game, then love is the instruction booklet. Learning to play again

I’m not sure how much I believe I can now. Do I love my girl or my grief more, love?

And here come the waterworks. I swear the last thing I need is to cry. I haven’t got the flooding from last year out of my mind. It was a water heater and an air filter… (Grumbles). There’s a reason I haven’t turned on the air conditioner yet. What? But even if we’re billionaires, I’m protecting the hearth and home. If only “he” were here…

My firstborn, my Braxton. Always and forever. I promised my son and you, my love. Only it’s been a while since it’s been just us. But B is in my heart and head on Sunday, April 28, 2024. He’ll be here when you see this Tuesday, April 30, 2024. It’s funny that I can’t time-travel past my mourning and grief.

My groin or you G-Spot. I’m sure the critic would love to hear about that—a time when I’m not Braxton’s Dad. And we have kids of our own. Let me be a man, and you are my woman. Period.

Inevitably, I go back to crying about Braxton. I didn’t pour the Bisquick, but Braxton… Yeah, Braxton will always be my pancake. And there isn’t a time without missing him.

That’s one thing he has over our kids. “Haven’t you people ever heard of closing a (blah) door?!” When Braxton was alive, how many times did I have intimate moments with anyone? Seriously!? 161 celibate…

That’s why I relate somewhat to Ethan from the book Bikini Days by Michael Dalton. Ethan’s daughter makes him swear off women after Ethan’s wife walks out on them. I’ll Never Fall In Love Again. My Braxton was much better.

He wouldn’t want me to swear off the things or those I love. I’m sure he would have loved you. And if he could see his siblings, I’ll even include Virgil in that. But the time, my love. If only you could feel as I do. The breath I took after Braxton’s very last one.

Everything feels wrong. It’s as if I have all the time in the world and then none at all, love. I keep talking about turning forty and if somehow I can make that… Anything, love.

There’ll be time to read Bikini Dawn. Thankfully, it will come out before E-Day. I’ll still be thirty-nine, my love!

Live, learn, and love myself, us, this family, always and forever. Virgil, Time To B

1185 Days Without B III, Day 626 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 297 ~ That’ll B Lovely, Virgil~

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Life is… beautiful? Everything is… awesome? That’ll be… lovely. And how about existence? I hate this phrase, but “it is what it is.” If something is “good” for others, that is great. Then there’s my boys and their lives, Huh. That’ll B Lovely, Virgil

Tuesday, April 23, 2024

Tale 297 ~ That’ll B Lovely, Virgil~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right… But what does that mean now? That I pay? Part of me yearns for you…

Probably you want me to close my eyes, close my eyes, and relax, think of nothing tonight… That nothing is my firstborn son, Braxton. And tonight? It’s Thursday, April 18, 2024. Braxton is still gone. And this coming week? God, I want to join him.

Braxton is love. So are you. So are they. The family we have made together, this existence, the life that we share… I didn’t ask some father in heaven or one down here on Earth.

Love, I didn’t even ask the one I see staring back at me through the mirror. So, what did I want in this existence? It doesn’t come with a menu. But how much is that doggie in the window? I don’t know. Braxton was/is lovely.

And now I sit here in bed. Why… After seeing that little face. The touch of B III’s soft fur. I would hear Braxton’s happiness every time I returned. The taste of food before sharing.

Smell… please ew. In fifteen years, B learned to go outside. And “with that in mind, a soft, nice-smelling girl’s better.” With all the songs I listen to, why can’t I hear I love you?

I know you do, baby. Despite me being a baby. And you asking me anything and everything except the obvious. Because if you ever did, it would be cruel, ugly, and vile, my sweet love. And I’m trying. When I saw V, I thought, “That’ll be lovely.” A fur kid.

His life’s far from lovely.

But again, what about ours? What About Us, What About The Rest Of Us? Anyone? Indeed, everyone is asking me that. And it’s not fair to any of you. To just be lovely, like something to be picked up for dinner. I mean, there’s lovely. And then there’s, well, more. I can sing Isn’t She Lovely about each of our daughters. And what about our sons. I hope they are better men than me. Wasn’t B III, and what about Virgil? Hmm. Virgil Vivi’s trying.

Everything is lovely and awesome. But I want it to be… Well, how it never will be. Braxton should be here to see it. And if I can love as my firstborn son loved me, love. That’ll B Lovely, Virgil

1178 Days Without B III, Day 619 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 290 ~Love Bugs B, Virgil~

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I haven’t been bitten by the love bug in some time. When’s the last time I’ve been outside other than to let V out. Or go anywhere I didn’t want to go. What bugs me the most. Breathing. I wish I could make it worthwhile. Love Bugs B, Virgil

Tuesday, April 16, 2024

Tale 290 ~Love Bugs B, Virgil~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right… But while you always tell and show me, I miss Braxton—you and them. Virgil?

Money makes such a lovely sound. But is it love? For the love of money. If I had it 1,171 days ago, would it have saved my firstborn son, my B? Food insecurity? Never, love! Today, Sunday, April 7, 2024. I’m only thinking about all the problems in the kitchen. Braxton’s food still sits on the counter. Three years? Is that a problem? Frightening, Mad?

Even now, I want to yell out to Braxton to take his medicine or fill up his food and water bowls. I do that for V anyway, but it’s not the same, and it sounds stupid. Doesn’t sound like love…

Like the kitchen faucet that’s acting up, the shelf that fell down, or a messed-up drawer. This mess, I swear.

If that ain’t love, then I don’t know what love is. A well-loved house that I should fix for the living. In doing so, I would honor my Braxton. It’s slowly eating away at me.

Inspecting for termites when I would instead be blasting my way through Terminids, Automatons, and whatever else in the game Helldivers 2. What’s one more distraction? Hmm. I need anything and everything to make some noise. Grieving, Hating, but Loving…

Trying to remember what love sounds like bugs me. Only I want to hear it. You and me, always and forever, my love. I want to place the two of us under the covers. Really?
Hey, it beats me thinking about Maiko Kaneda all day. Your husband has a type.

The two of us love bugs. Those two-legged children of ours, bugging mommy and daddy. Someday, I might even look at Virgil as such. One of our kids. But he didn’t have a choice, my love. I can’t say I was even bitten by the love bug. More like I was bitten by my B. And it would have pained me to leave without Virgil. Only I was being selfish or even obtuse with love. Seriously, what’s with all my talk of bugs anyway? Extermination?

Breathing bugs me. Every breath I take. Take this morning for example. I lied here reading, and Virgil was shoving against me. As long as I didn’t look at him, I could imagine Braxton, love bug. Love Bugs B, Virgil

1171 Days Without B III, Day 612 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 283 ~Hear B, Listen V~

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When was the last time I heard “I love you” and felt something? When was the last time I said it? The last time I heard love and felt it was in Braxton’s last breath. And I’m sure I’ll be hearing it well into the future. “Hear B, Listen V.”

Tuesday, April 9, 2024

Tale 283 ~Hear B, Listen V~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right… But I can tell why it has to be this way. My son is gone.

Braxton, my Soldier, Soul dog, indeed my firstborn Son. Even now, while I time travel. Today is Sunday, March 31, 2024, Easter Sunday. He Is Risen? Well, not my Braxton.

Today, how many more will pay for my sins? There ain’t no coming back from all these things that I’ve done. But that’s the thing, my love. I’m still gone, and you’re still waiting for me. Even though I don’t look a thing like Jesus. I know I need to cut the music off, love. I need to turn off all the noise and stay awake. Why? Because love’s louder?

Honestly, that’s my problem. The last time I heard love was my Braxton’s last breath. And for 1,164 days, I’ve only been listening. But hearing?

Whatever DEI! And you know what I wanted to say.

More like they want to say. But why is hate so much easier to explain? Why do the things I hate come so naturally? Like myself for what happened to Braxton. You tell me, I loved, and I loved, and I lost you. You sing to me. As long as I’m breathing, always and forever.

So why don’t I want to hear it? Am I making any sense at all, my love? Love is confusing.

It’s the way it has to be sometimes. But how much longer? As I said before, look how far I am from this day. Look how far I’ve come from the day my B fell. I still hear it, love.

Only you know you, man. My love language is physical touch. And when it comes to you and me, I feel everything. And you’ll do anything to make me feel your love. Actions, right? More than words? And everything that comes with it. But you want me to hear you. You need me to. But all I hear is pain, yours, mine, my boys, B III and 2V, our kids.

And I listen to everything else, like some white noise. I am sleeping away existence. Today, love doesn’t lie bleeding. It’s sleeping. And I have to find my way, darling.

Honestly, that’s the only time I’ll say you remind me of my Ma, baby doll. I’ll let you love me. Hear? Hear B, Listen V.

1164 Days Without B III, Day 605 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 248 ~Hear B, Hear V~

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I don’t know what kind of man I am. But for this week, at least, I would be glad if I could be a voice. And what would I say? When did I last say I love you to anyone besides my dead fur buddy? And no one would understand it. Hear B, Hear V

Tuesday, March 5, 2024

Tale 248 ~Hear B, Hear V~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right… If there’s one thing, I want you to understand. It’s that I love you, Always.

We’ve only just begun to live, as the song goes. I should find another way to communicate other than with pop culture references. As if you haven’t been hearing it all this time, my love. Braxton didn’t care. He understood me in one way, but you are much different. Right.

Braxton knows me as his father. And to you, I’m a… uh… fine man. But you both know me as a friend. And I’m sure on many occasions, I was “Daddy.” Do you know what I am saying? Because that’s what’s been bothering me since last week. Not being understood.

And I don’t know how to say what I need to say. Ever. The why should be easy, my love.

I love you. That’s all.

So why do I continue to mourn and grieve for my Braxton? I don’t know how to say goodbye. You’re a testament to that as well. You’re here. That’s how we live, isn’t it, love?

I’m here, we’re here, they’re here. We all are right here. And I don’t know how to move on. I need the words to move people. Even if it’s good or bad at this point. I need to communicate. And when someone tells you, you’re inappropriate and irrelevant, my love.

Why do you keep speaking? I ask myself every time I look in the mirror. With enough money, what I say is OK. I use others’ looks in the businesses I run. But please listen.

I love you. Please understand!

But I miss my boy. I miss B III. And I don’t see why that is so hard to understand, love. And as far as 2V, my love? I took responsibility. Friendship, love, and happiness? Understand that I wish I could be the man that I once was. I don’t want to remember the child I was. And then there was Braxton. Now, I’m trying to figure out everything else.

But our love. And not only that, but anything and everything nobody wants to understand. Or it’s me. I can love plenty without loving myself. I’m ain’t happy. And I shouldn’t say I am happy for everyone else. But I’ll be glad if you’re happy, our children, Braxton and Virgil. Understand? Hear B, Hear V

1129 Days Without B III, Day 570 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Lesson 223 ~SORRY, In Capital Letters~

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Not for all the tea in China, see even that makes me feel like I owe an apology, but nobody is getting one unless they have four legs and fit snuggly in my bed or two and some good assets, then I’m sure I’ll know one word. “SORRY, In Capital Letters”

Friday, February 9, 2018

Lesson 223 ~SORRY, In Capital Letters~

“Love means never having to say you’re sorry.” Love Story

Hey Lady Sophia,
I Am Not Afraid Anymore, talk about job security, I never love anybody so that’s why I am perpetually in business and what about that account for my day job? Something I’m going to have to confess to Inspector Echo. My how I hate wasting words, a genocide of thought and I love writing and for that I’ll repeat it, I’m sorry.

Ironically probably my grandest love at the moment which of course is my dog, can’t read and as much as he tilts his cute little head, he doesn’t understand the word. In truth with all of my writing starting from my name to this moment I’m still trying to understand anything and everything. It might explain my depression and why I haven’t been writing because no one wants to comprehend not even me and as much as I wish I could say I’m beyond description, I’m not worth it sometimes.

“Shut up or die…” Pontypool

If anything Lady Sophia that’s been the lesson for this whole godawful week, shut up or become one of them, the infected cretins always just vomiting out whatever is right at the time. Fine, okay, happy, here’s something else I would never say, Trump is a genius, he may be a moron and say some horrible things but the thing about it is, he doesn’t give a rat’s ass what he says. He never says he’s sorry but what does that mean, how does Trump feel about the American people, if he can scream his thoughts to the world “honestly.”

You know something, I think Love Story (1970) has it wrong, love means always having to say you’re sorry, again I’m forever apologizing to the dog, but I didn’t say it at work. I don’t say it to my family, hell I know a woman that loves me, but I don’t tell her I’m sorry. Talk about being a hypocrite; I started this thinking I’m always offering up apologies but other than to my dog who else is there, me and of course Inspector Echo.

My lack of writing might mean that I finally don’t love myself to try and save myself anymore with my words, but that won’t do at all will it? Would it help if I told you I’m sorry, would it help if I wrote it down a hundred times just like I Will Have No Fear, what will it take for me to listen, listen, hear, and understand this one word SORRY, In Capital Letters?

I Will Have No Fear

Hear Me Out

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Once upon a time I made a mom pretty “darn” angry, and it wasn’t my mom for once and I can’t say that this poem helped any. Hear Me Out, well to be fair I don’t even talk to my own mother or many people in my everyday life and still, I try to explain.

Hear me here
I wish you were dear
My girlfriend, my lover, or even a friend
So where do I begin
This isn’t the place
Or is this a waste?

Hear me there
Do you care?
What I have to say
I listen every day
… Okay, okay I’ll shut up
You’ve had enough

Hear me now
Better yet how
Freaking blocked me
You’re not listening
Or buying
Am I lying?

Hear me in
Is that a sin?
These screams
My dreams
Aren’t real
But you feel

What I am
Is not a good man?
Which I never cop to
But a fool
For freedom
So read on
Or don’t
You probably won’t

Hear me out
What I’m about
Sex and drugs
Death and blood
But to clock
And knock
Let me explain
Know my name
Am I too loud?
Just hear me out