Meditation 322 ~And I’d B Right~

So I have one more week off. Where do I go? Back to bed? Not to sleep but to write. Or at least that’s what I tell myself. I need to drive to the dealership, the doctors at Banfield, or some delicious girl I know. And I’d B Right.

Monday, May 19, 2025

Meditation 322 ~And I’d B Right~

Hey Dad,
It’s Me, Baby B… You believe me, right? Like you know, you love me like pancakes. Like I’ll come back. Like you’re crying.

Rituals when it comes to mourning and grieving. But I’m not the “Son of a Preacher Man,” no matter what that lady would say in church. I’m your son, and I’d be right about that. You would fight people if they said otherwise. Four legs and all, right, my father.

And I need you to listen to me. More? To see me. You’d give anything to open your eyes and see me. How many seconds, minutes, and hours as you sing, “he doesn’t look a thing like Jesus.” I look better, Dad. And I did come back. And if things work out with me and Virgil’s future stepmom… Yeah, I know. At least when you’re looking at her, your eyes, Dad… closed, teary, seeing red.

Routinely, when you finally opened your eyes, it would be to push me off your head, remember? And I’d be right. It was time to wake up. No, it’s time to “Get Up, Stand Up,” don’t give up the fight. Bob Marley? Dad, how long did we know each other? Am I trying to be funny? Well, at least you’re not crying. But to answer the question. Fifteen years and thirteen days shy of my birthday. And here I am, trying to get you to dance like you once did with me. What else is there to do? I know you’ve been worried, downright terrified.

Our routine, Dad, can’t be fixed. While you think, “Well, I’ve never prayed, but tonight I’m on my knees, yeah.”

Right. It’s a “Bitter Sweet Symphony,” that’s life. Things change, Dad. And I’d B Right.

For good or bad, because I can’t tell you the future. But I see what the future stepmom has done for you. You’re laughing and crying; I should stick to my Favorite Girl and let you have this one. Leave some women for you and Virgil as I watch you lead him down the same path I used to own. I’m not trying to tell you to be all Viva la vida. What I want to say to you today is this. I want you to see me sitting on the corner of the bed. And to know that nothing will hurt us. And I’d B Right, You’re gonna be alright. And I’d B Right.

The right man in the wrong place can make all the difference in the world. So, wake up, Mister Freeman. Wake up and… smell the ashes
― Half-Life 2, G-Man

“He did what any hero must: set sail. But you, you turn back. Tell me why.”
― Dante Alighieri, Inferno

1569 Days Without B III, Day 1010 of Virgil’s Arrival

Always and Forever,
Your Son

Meditation 316 ~Virgil, I’ll B Saying~

The last time I had to send Virgil to Braxton’s Room was because of a storm. He’s not one to control his bladder. And he could lose his sh*t. Speaking of which, the things that I say. I miss Braxton. I love sex, I’m afraid. Virgil, I’ll B Saying

Tuesday, May 13, 2025

Meditation 316 ~Virgil, I’ll B Saying~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right? More than my boys? I plead the 5th. My love, I’m not that lying Trump.

I have my soft and hard limits, but may I never be as vulgar, vindictive, or vicious as those of MAGA. And yet one of my sons, Braxton, saw Trump’s end… Virgil sees Trump 2.0.

But no, I don’t want to talk about politics today, Monday, May 12, 2025. Or ever. But we have no choice in the matter. As I have no choice but to keep loving Braxton. Always.

And Virgil? I don’t love him as much as Braxton. Later V, Later Virgil as opposed to Love ya B, Love ya Braxton. And look at me crying again. It’s not only because of Braxton. Mother’s Day has been pretty HARD till now. And OH MY GOD, we’ll get to that. Only, I miss Braxton.

Would you rather listen to me cry over him love or sweat over you? Mourning or Moaning? Grieving or Grunting? Wiping my tears or Whipping my… Must I be gross?

“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.”
The Last of Us

Love, if anything, as Roger sang, “I Want To Be Your Man.” I need “Sexual Healing,” as Marvin Gaye spectacularly put it. What’s better than making Love “Between The Sheets.”

My boy isn’t the only one that can put together a playlist. But we’d have to send Braxton, Virgil, and our two-legged rugrats to bed. Especially considering who I want to be with you. Annoying? I can be that too, but at least I’m not crying anymore, but you, darling.

Well, I want to effing “Tear You Apart.” Because “You get me closer to God.”

And that’s the truth, “I Wanna Eff You.” But not only because I love you more than anything. (Braxton looks down on me from Heaven). I don’t have alternative facts; I have ADDITIONAL facts. Effing MAGA! Anyway, my love, I’m afraid. Yes, I’m worried, but it’s FEAR, my love. And it has begun to overwhelm me. But I’m “Just A Man.” A man provides, protects, and pets puppies. But Braxton isn’t here anymore. And a man isn’t supposed to call on a woman for help, but who else is there. My Ma? Anyone at all?

Love, I don’t know what to do. WHATEVER IT TAKES! I sound like one of my motivations, or Captain America. So what’s next. I have Virgil. Virgil, I’ll B Saying.

1563 Days Without B III, Day 1004 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 315 ~We Won’t B Worried~

I’m sure I sang “Three Little Birds” for Braxton plenty. 2-V listens to instrumentals today because I need to hear B’s voice. But four years ago, with a look, B would say I had nothing to fear. But today, pick up any worry, please. We Won’t B Worried

Monday, May 12, 2025

Meditation 315 ~We Won’t B Worried~

Hey Dad,
It’s Me, Baby B… Am I real? I want to say as real as all your worries. Yesterday? At least Virgil was invited…

Grandma would have never invited me. And why am I speaking so plain today, Daddy? Or is the word direct? It’s like the day you got my little brother, Virgil. And even now, you question. Was that me you were hearing, or are you a man of your word, Daddy?

Being the man you are, it’s both. My father is a great many things. I need to be in the other room for some of those things. Like father, like son, because you were talking to my future stepmom this morning and… Eww, Dad! Yes, I played with my toys in front of my favorite girl. But you forget I’m omniscient, and you can’t just send me to my room.

M Anime’s not my stepmom?

Well, me and Virgil’s, I know. But at least she stopped you from worrying for a little while. And that makes her okay in my book. Now it’s your turn to give me the look. Because with everything you were telling her today. You said I didn’t like anybody? Uh… And now you’re worried about my grandparents’ house. And that’s on top of everything else.

“Times Like These,” my father, or should I say, isn’t it “Ironic,” don’t you think? Is it your “Anxiety?” What’s with the soundtrack? I remember Daddy when everything could be solved with you taking a nap and me guarding the bedroom door. Then you’d wake up, see me guarding you, you’d give me a cuddle, and then spill the tea.

These kids and their slang. But compared to me, you are pretty young, Daddy. Honestly.

That’s why you should keep taking my little brother on those walks. But again, Anxiety. You should keep talking to M Anime even if she doesn’t become the stepmom. Anxiety. And you can never stop writing your books even though… (Gives you a look). Anxiety. I could keep going, but comedy comes in threes. B III, to be precise. Oh, so I got jokes, Dad.

Laughter has never been the best medicine. Sleep, singing, and the STUFF you want to do to Virgil and I’s potential stepmom. If I ever had two-legged siblings, right Daddy. More worries. But today, Daddy, ask yourself, “Why Should I Worry.” We Won’t B Worried

“There is more than one path to the top. Always remember that, brother.”
Golden Son (Red Rising 2), Pierce Brown

“Without hope, we live in desire.”
― From Dante’s Inferno

1562 Days Without B III, Day 1003 of Virgil’s Arrival

Always and Forever,
Your Son

Meditation 309 ~Virgil’s B In Language~

I tell B I love him every day. But I don’t know about the reception on the Rainbow Bridge. I tell V, “Later.” I tell him I’ll be back and that he’s staying. I rescued him. And they’re potential stepmom. What I said to her. Virgil’s B In Language

Tuesday, May 6, 2025

Meditation 309 ~Virgil’s B In Language~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right? But as Snow Patrol sings, “Those three words are said too much. They’re not enough.”

How do I know? Despite how much my Old Man paid my way, I hate him. My firstborn son, Braxton, died. And I could say it to my secondborn son, Virgil. But I hate lying.

Always and forever, there’s you, my love. There is the family we created together. And you know me, a beast with a beat. “Havin’ my baby. What a lovely way of sayin’ how much you love me.” That’s all you because I highly doubt Braxton would send me such a song. If he were here today, his four little legs would run circles around his two-legged siblings to keep them safe. Virgil would be quieter than them, easy. Long story.

Love can be quiet or loud. It’s a difficult language.

And since I’m reminiscing about people, places, and even pieces of myself I hate. LEARN.

I’m constantly having to relearn how to love myself. Love, I am The Walking Dead. However, I’m not saying that because today is Sunday, May 4, 2025. So we both know, um, Tuesday, May 6, 2025, is going to suck. Oh, we’ll get to the sucking. Uh, ew. Uh, lovers.

Watch my mouth? Again, we’ll get to that. I say the most horrible things, and we’re not a religious household. But love, Jesus had it easy. If we skip the torture, he just died, love.

My Ma would say he died to save us. And I live? Not because I particularly care to do so. That’s my love language. STAYING.

Again, from a biblical context, Jesus came back. God is love. Dog is love, and my B III, “I said he doesn’t look a thing like Jesus,” as The Killers put it. However, “My Goddess.”

Um. Did we put the kids to bed four-legged, two-legged, and all? Okay, dearest love.

Purely in a Shakespearean meets The Pretty Reckless type of way, “You make me wanna die.” Hear me out, my love. My grief brings me closer to my son, B. Not really, but that’s what I’m going with. Being with you brings me closer in a way to dying. Seriously? Neither of us is Rihanna, but “Sex with Me,” sex with you, I tell myself, “I guess I die another day.” Virgil’s B In Language.

“I think I’ll find another way
There’s so much more to know
I guess I’ll die another day
It’s not my time to go

For every sin, I’ll have to pay
I’ve come to work, I’ve come to play
I think I’ll find another way
It’s not my time to go.”
Die Another Day

1556 Days Without B III, Day 997 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 308 ~Will It B Complicated~

If I looked at myself the way Braxton did, loving myself would be a breeze. Speaking of a breeze, Virgil and I were burning up in the heat. He looked at me with faith that I’d save us. But with no money because of the Day Job. “Will It B Complicated”

Monday, May 5, 2025

Meditation 308 ~Will It B Complicated~

Hey Dad,
It’s Me, Baby B… And you already know the answer. Why do you think I constantly barked at the gate? Because life is…

What? I would watch you come and go for fifteen years. Twenty because I’m here. Somehow, someway, “I’m Still Here” and “I’m Real.” Seriously, Treasure Planet and J-Lo. Movies and music are how I can always reach you. I’m forever with you, even today, right?

It’s Saturday, May 3, 2025. Time moves ever so much faster for me and my brother and slower for you. And yet Virgil is content as I was/am. Humans tend to make things so “Complicated.” So, what? Am I here to play Merlin to my king? You keep calling me.

Daddy, Rohan will answer. We are such geeks, you and I. Do you see how easy it was to put a smile on your face? The bad place is complicated.

And that is why we’re talking today. Because the humans in the bad place are going to make you mad. And if you could only live life… Not existence, but live life as you are. Little 2 V is at your side, and we’re talking. I spent days with you typing on the glow box.

Speaking of the glow box, there were all the nights with you and my favorite girl watching it. And there were plenty of snacks. Daddy, how you’d smile and laugh. Honestly, I didn’t know you could be like that. But Virgil has only seen it once. But it’s not complicated at all, Dad, to give Virgil those types of moments. V has plenty of chances.

Because life is… It’s yours.

The world is yours. Like in Scarface. Not quite my father. Leave that to the manuscripts that you will publish, the movies you’ll make, and the embodiment of the man I know you to be. It doesn’t have to be complicated, Dad. Just be as you are, my father, always.

Brave, Joyful, dare I say Happy. Dad, you said you would come back. That promise? Daddy, that was one you never broke. And the reason you haven’t followed me here. Because of my little brother, my favorite girl, Cherry’s yabbos… I liked my favorite girl’s.

M Anime, mine, and Virgil’s stepmom. You keep saying stop calling her that. But love? Daddy, it’s not complicated. Life is… life itself. You’ll love yourself. Will It B Complicated.

“I so wanted (him) to feel the happiness that I felt whenever we touched each other, but people are more complicated creatures than dogs.”
― A Dog’s Journey: A Novel

“It is easy to go down into Hell; night and day, the gates of dark Death stand wide; but to climb back again, to retrace one’s steps to the upper air – there’s the rub, the task.”
― From Virgil

1555 Days Without B III, Day 996 of Virgil’s Arrival

Always and Forever,
Your Son

Meditation 302 ~Room After B, Virgil~

To be a man and a Dad, one must “Make Room, Make Room!” I don’t know if B has only taken up more space since his death or if there is so little left of me. V needs space, too. And yet I step forward only to ask myself. Where to? Room After B, Virgil.

Tuesday, April 29, 2025

Meditation 302 ~Room After B, Virgil~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right? Every little step I take, you will be there. But I’m not Bobby Brown. I’m…

That’s the thing, my love. I want to say, “All Yours.” But I’m not one to shy away from the truth. And while I’m constantly asking myself where I am going, It’s where I am.

“Where you gonna go, where you gonna run, where you gonna hide? Nowhere… ’cause there’s no one like you left.” — Carol Malone, Body Snatchers (1993)

Darling, I have never left the last place I saw my boy on Sunday, January 31, 2021. There was Braxton, in his own bed on a vet’s table, looking at me to do something, save him, or spare him any more pain. My boy wanted to stay. And since he couldn’t, I have. That is the truth. It could be a new definition of love. At its most simplistic, love means you before me. By that logic, I do love Virgil, too. But the concept that one would only stay.

Baby Doll, I could give you a whole playlist on that “Stay With Me” “If I lay here. If I just lay here. Would you lie with me and just forget the world?” “We were made to never fall away.” You can thank B for that last one. “You’re coming back for me.” Damn right!

However, this is the rub. How can I return to a place that I have never left? Where am I?

We are in a dream. I still see us on a beach somewhere. Our two-legged kids ran along in the sand and waves. Little Braxton pulled with all his might to keep them from the water. And you are pulling me and trying to get me to join you. Where?

Again, I don’t know. A man is supposed to lead, but I would rather follow my boy or have you, my love, follow my rules. One of those reasons is “chains and whips excite me,” ha-ha! You know how I’ve been feeling about money these days. Building our “Red Room.”

More like I wanted to “Paint It Black.” Like all the ink along the pages of the books I write. I read something last night and to see the dark lusts, depravity, and desires. Love? Honestly, it could go either way. Let’s say all the dark places in women that men yearn to go, my love. Because with you, at least, I’m moving forward in a Kama Sutra way, baby.

Love? Room After B, Virgil.

Even if you leave this room, you can never leave this room.
— from 1408 (2007)

1549 Days Without B III, Day 990 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 301 ~There’ll B Time, Dad~

I’ve sat in bed more times than I can count, wishing for the end. I tell myself the world will end in five minutes, and nothing else will matter. But B died, I go broke, and in my head are four book ideas. There’s no time. “There’ll B Time, Dad”

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

Meditation 295 ~No B In Sharing~

Manners! Language! You talk too much! Should I say more about my furry kid? Four years gone. Or what about the walk with his little brother on a rainy morning? Money woes. Manuscripts that will never be published. Manhood. My Evils. “No B In Sharing”

Tuesday, April 22, 2025

Meditation 295 ~No B In Sharing~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right? Enough to SHARE my life with you. Or give it. Oh, to be so noble.

Missing my Braxton, I could be a modern-day samurai. Committing Seppuku? No. That would only dishonor my firstborn son, you, my love, and our family. What? You didn’t think I only studied Japanese Adult Anime. Would you instead have me share more about B III?

Money has also become a concern. I was talking to my Ma the other day and wanted to share with her that I am afraid. A man provides for his family. Husband and father. “What Kind of Man Would I Be,” to admit that I’m afraid I can’t give you and our kids everything you want and need. But I wouldn’t be a good one. “What Makes a Good Man?”

Manuscripts full of bad ones. I was reading “My Writing.”

Yesterday, I kept getting the same response from “the critics.” I share far too much.

Truthful, yes, but too much. There’s “No Hope Left.” Apparently, I can’t say such things. I didn’t tell Braxton that as I watched him die. I don’t tell Virgil that when we walk every day. He needs to believe in a better world. A better me. What about myself, love?

Looking at myself in the mirror, I inevitably say, “I wish you would step back from that ledge, my friend.” But what’s the truth? I want to tell the worst things, my Dirty Little Secret.

Braxton was euthanized Sunday, January 31, 2021, because I failed him. I don’t know how to reach Virgil. And I wish I was never born.

Because I am afraid. “It feels like I’m dying. I’m so scared all the time.” So why not share my sins with you? The things I have never done. Is it effed up that I think about this, like sharing food with my boys? Braxton eating hot dogs, and Virgil has pizza bites. You love?

I get off on the idea of watching you with someone being “ravished.” Cuckoldry vs Netorare (NTR). There’s a book in the closet, “Ravishment: The Dark Side of Erotic Fantasy” by Desmond Ravenstone. I’ve been excited by nonfiction violation stories. Exhibitionism is something I’d explore with you. My Sadism. Fear brings out my depravity. I share this with you because telling myself, my boys, I’ve failed. No B In Sharing.

1542 Days Without B III, Day 983 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 294 ~To B At Peace~

Peace be unto you. Unto you be peace. I miss sitting with my son and watching a movie. The Book of Clarence? Braxton’s favorite girl, and I watched that. But can I still afford streaming memberships? Such despair at being broke. “To B At Peace.”

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

Meditation 288 ~Love’s A B, Virgil~

I’m sure I’ll turn to look at the love of my life in bed and then down at my feet and mutter, “Son of a B.” Not in an Eddie Murphy/Marcus Graham sort of way from Boomerang. It’s because B isn’t resting there. V’s trying his best. “Love’s A B, Virgil”

Tuesday, April 15, 2025

Meditation 288 ~Love’s A B, Virgil~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right? Something you and Braxton have in common. The reason I’ve been playing the song “Jumper.”

“I wish you would step back from that ledge, my friend
You could cut ties with all the lies that you’ve been living in
And if you do not want to see me again
I would understand.”
Third Eye Blind

Must I always jump to memories of my firstborn son, Braxton, who died long ago, long ago, long ago. Four long years, and still, I linger on that first minute. I love it and him.

Only I’m quick to jump onto some mattress with you. Or anywhere, for that matter. Love and lust. Dare I say I might actually like not feeling so sad all the time? I’ll take love over war. As I’ll take Sadism over Masochism. Are those dirty words? If you have read what I have been typing lately in novels. Again, if I sound like anything from Jumper, then be worried.

But Virgil’s here, along with our other children, so you and I, my love, won’t be jumping or bouncing soon.

Son of a B! Am I mad, grieving, horny as the Devil himself. I’m confused and depraved, and even when I wake up, the first thing I think of is that I’ve had enough. Hence, Jumper playing. If only love…

You know what stops me? My son B, B III, Little B, Braxton. I was once… Dad of a B. However, to love like that again, there are no words because there aren’t any answers.

How many words are in the English language again? And I was working with a writer the other day on one of many stories; “The Eve of a Cherry,” “Nightmare At The Meat Market,” and “Cries Come Women, Come Country.” The third is an Erotic Horror War Thriller. And thinking of all the horrible things I put in that synopsis. Honestly, is that what love is to me? Is it making someone feel horrible? Like me 24/7. You’re still here.

“In my trials
And my tribulations
Through our doubts
And frustrations
In my violence
In my turbulence
Through my fear
And my confessions
In my anguish and my pain
Through my joy and my sorrow
In the promise of another tomorrow.”
Will You Be There

My Braxton is not here. But he loved me when I had no earthly or divine idea of how to love myself. And I could honor him by loving myself the way he loved me. The way he chose to love me when he should have been a furball locked away in my sister’s purse.

And that’s why I hear his voice, his bark now. The words “I love you” should mean something. But there are other words… Braxton says, “Don’t be afraid.” You tell me, “Whatever you want.” Virgil and the other kids call me “Daddy.” Myself? “Tomorrow’s gonna suck.” Love’s A B, Virgil

1535 Days Without B III, Day 976 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will