Asleep on my steel slab, I was soon awakened by an officer’s keys jangling at my cell door. “Day room, you have 30 minutes,” he shouted. I got up, brushed my teeth, threw on my shoes and walked to the phone.
After dialing my mother’s number, I noticed the word “love” etched into the block wall surrounded by all graffiti. Still half asleep, I heard my mother’s voice. The morning was Feb. 20.
Her words poured forth. I could feel my heart sinking to my stomach. In that 20 minutes, it felt like time stood still, yet it was over so quickly.
My ex-wife of 10 years lost her battle with breast cancer. She was only 40 years old.
Our son, Dylan, is 15. He lost me to prison seven years ago at age 8. The agony of him having to bury his mother weighs heavy on my heart. Where will he go? Who will take care of him? Why would God allow this to happen to my son?
In prison there is virtually nowhere to go to grieve. Family is all I have while in prison, and this quarantine has been emotionally difficult for all prisoners. Contact visits are suspended, the video visits have been broken for over a month, and phone calls are impossible to schedule, as we never know when we’ll be granted our 30 minutes. We all know someone who has lost family or friends during COVID-19, so how do we grieve when we’re locked up 23.5 hours every day?
Prisoners are not getting hugs from family, nor do we get a line of cars driving by with signs and blaring horns. We sit and occupy our time with good thoughts and ways to improve our lives for an opportunity to show society we still belong.
Family has been here from day one. Without them, the pain would be unbearable. Seeing my son grow up through pictures has been tough, but joy enters my heart when I see all of his accomplishments.
As men, we are taught to be tough. We hold in our emotions and “suck it up.” Prison can harden your heart, but only if you allow it. I will use my pain to show my son how I will improve my life in one of the hardest environments.
My son and I will mourn together, even though we are so far apart. Prison will not defeat me, nor will it hurt my family with its corrupt agendas. Prison reform may be centuries behind, but my will to thrive is how I will get by.
When writing my son, that word “love” appeared to me just as it was etched on the wall. As the ink flows on the paper, that word “love” will be used to help him heal.
A father’s pain will never go away, not while being locked up in here. But at least I know my son is safe. Although his mother left us on that particular day, we both understand that we gained an angel for the rest of our days.
Republish our articles for free, online or in print, under a Creative Commons license.
Republish this article
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
Here are our ground rules:
- You must credit Prison Journalism Project. In the byline, we prefer “[Author Name], Prison Journalism Project.” At the top of the text of your story, please include a line that says: “This story was originally published by Prison Journalism Project” and include a link to the article.
- No republishing of photographs, illustrations or graphics without specific permission. Please contact inquiries@prisonjournalismproject.org.
- No editing the content, including the headline, except to reflect changes in time, location and editorial style. For example, changing, “today” to “last week,” or San Quentin to San Quentin, California. You can also make minor revisions for style or headline size, and you can trim stories for space. You must also retain all original hyperlinks, including links to the Prison Journalism Project newsletters.
- No translation of our stories into another language without specific permission. Please contact inquiries@prisonjournalismproject.org.
- No selling ads against our stories, but you can publish it on a page with ads that you’ve already sold.
- No reselling or syndicating our stories, including on platforms or apps like Apple News or Google News. You also can’t republish our work automatically or all at once. Please select them individually.
- No scraping our website or using our stories to populate websites designed to improve search rankings or gain revenue from network-based advertisements.
- Any site our stories appear on must have a prominent and effective way to contact you.
- If we send you a request to remove our story, you must do so immediately.
- If you share republished stories on social media, please tag Prison Journalism Project. We have official accounts on Twitter (@prisonjourn), Facebook (@prisonjournalism), Instagram (@prisonjournalism) and Linked In.
- Let us know when you share the story. Send us a note, so we can keep track.
In Prison, Grieving is Impossible
