#176 Mother’s Day in Prison, pt 2

May 9, 2010 at 2:46 pm 1 comment

“You think I’m ashamed of you?” asked mom gently.

“Well, you’d have every right to be.”

“Is that what you think? Have you been here in prison worried whether I love you or not, or if our family has thrown you out because you broke the law?”

I hesitated to answer…because I DID believe that.

“Look at me baby” said mom in a sweet, but stern whisper.

I mustered the strength to look at mom, now realizing that the one thing that Joe told me was now being seriously challenged. From the pit of my stomach and my heart I really, really felt that I let mom down…and everyone else. I didn’t deserve anyone’s love or respect, so maybe I felt isolating myself in prison was punishment enough…but I was wondering if I was being selfish to those who really loved me, regardless of my faults.

I looked at mom, and saw that same smile still there…even though mines had faded.

“Sweetheart, the entire family and church, and your friends all told me to tell you that they miss you and they want you to know that they still love you.”

“Yeah, but I know I screwed up…”

“Hush…that is not why I came this long way. I came to see my baby, and that smile you gave me awhile ago.”

“Mom…I…I’m sorry. I really am.”

“I know…but I still want that smile before I go.”

I managed to crack a weak smile, knowing it wasn’t as good as the first one I gave when I saw mom in the visitation room. I was now fighting my feelings, knowing damned well that I don’t deserve my mom’s love, and it was hurting me deep inside. Mom didn’t deserve this, she deserved to have a college grad who went to law school or medical school making $100,000 a year and taking good care of her. She deserved to have a son that made good in sports, with some multi-million dollar deal and serving the community.

Mom deserved that.

But she got me.

I felt awful.

And maybe mom sensed that, and clasped my hands warmly and looked at me, as if trying to see into my soul. I really believed mom had some kinda strange power to do that, even when I was growing up. She always seemed to know what was wrong with me.

“Baby, if you want to make my Mother’s Day as good as it can get, tell me that you are doing fine in here, and that you will be ok, and convince me that what you are telling me is true, so I don’t have to worry about you.”

“Mom…I am ok…honest.”

“Are you sure? Because I told you about those prison support sites I visit, and I read lots of bad things. There is almost nobody there that can talk about what really goes on inside, and sometimes I worry about you.”

“Mom, I promise you, I am doing ok. I ain’t been in no fight, I haven’t been cut or raped…although there are a couple of guys I wonder about when I go to the shower…”

Mom raised her eyebrow, suddenly concerned about my last statement. I quickly deflated the issue with the smile mom wanted from me, and laughed a bit.

“No, it ain’t like that…at least not to me…you just gotta be careful at times.”

“Careful?” asked mom.

“Well, it’s a community shower, just like at high school or at the health clubs, you just gotta be familiar about when you take a shower. Not much to it”

Mom still held her eyebrows in a sincere look.

“Mom, it’s ok, will ya stop worrying about that?” I said with a smile.

I think mom realized that maybe she was overly concerned, and seeing that my smiles were authentic, she realized that maybe it wasn’t as big a deal as she might have thought.

“Ok…I just don’t like the idea of any man looking at my baby’s butt”

“MOM!” I said, embarrassed at what she said.

For the first time in forever, we both had a decent laugh at that, and in that laugh was a medicine that seemed to bring a veil of comfort to both of us. Mom seemed to be very pleased that I was in good spirits, as I was in her.

“Mom, I…I am really glad you came, I just didn’t know how to take it when you said you were coming to see me. I just felt like I didn’t deserve it.”

“Baby, you are my son, I don’t care what happens, you being my son will never change. And I am not going to let you think that you have to do this alone. I know you have to be here until they release you, but I want you to know that I am always, ALWAYS thinking about you.”

“But that’s just it mom, I don’t want you worried sick about me. I get worried that you might be home crying about me, and it makes me feel down.”

“That’s why I had to see you baby. Sometimes I read some of those posts and I get scared for you. And lots of times those fears are based off nothing but ignorance. But I saw one guy that actually had been in prison, and I wrote him and asked him for some advice. He told me that the best thing for me to do was to be strong for you, so you would know that I was ok.”

“Funny, I was told the same thing by a guy here too. It was just that I didn‘t want you to see me here, of all places.” I said.

“I would rather see you here than not see you at all.” said mom.

“Mom. I love you, you know that, right?”

“I always knew that baby, I never lost sleep over that.”

Almost all too soon the visit had reached it’s end, and I felt like a person in the middle of a wonderful dream, only to be awaken by the alarm clock. I wanted to talk to mom about so many other things, but I was satisfied with the little time we did have.

I really thought it would be much more emotional, that mom would cry, but I think I was much closer to crying than she was. I kept my smile on brightly as I hugged mom once more before she had to go, as she gave me a kiss on my cheeks.

“Don’t you worry one second about me baby, I am fine now.” she said.

“Same here mom. I love you.”

As we parted ways, that warm feeling carried be through the strip search, something I truly hated, but was willing to endure for the time. I went back to the dorm, and as I thought about mom, I had initially thought that she would be crying in that car all the way back home, but I realized that IF she did, it wouldn’t be tears of sadness, it would be tears of comfort.

Mom would truly believe that I was going to be ok.

But it was that feeling, and others like it, that suddenly had me feeling down. The euphoria of the visit had now worn out, and I was reduced back to the lowly life of a criminal, an inmate. The weight of my condemnation had returned, and it weighed heavy on my heart.

I went back to the dorm, and with the yard still open, decided to take a nap. It would be awhile before dinner was served, but now I wasn’t hungry…I was homesick. I miss mom already, and she hadn’t been gone a half hour.

I laid on the bunk and covered my face with my inmate jacket. In my thoughts I started feeling worse, for no real reason except that I miss my mom. I then started to feel disappointed that I let her down. She drove all this way, when she didn’t have to. It was my fault. I let her down, I…

“Yo, kid”

“What.” I answered, knowing it was Joe.

“You get to see your mom?”

“Yeah.” I said, still under the jacket…close to crying.

“Good. She’s gonna be fine now.”

“How can you say that?” I said as I removed my jacket and looked at him.

“Cause, she got to see you.”

“And that means she’s going to be perfect and never worry about me again?”

“No, I didn’t say that. I said she’s gonna be fine.”

“What’s the difference?” I asked.

“The difference kid,” started Joe as he sat on his bunk and opened a bag of snacks he got from canteen and tossed me a Butterfinger, “is that she found comfort”.

“I don’t understand.”

“Your mom came all this way to do two things. Get comfort and to give comfort. She needed to know that you were ok, and she had to see it for herself. No letter or phonecall can really give that. But she also came to give you some strength, because you needed it. She came to let you know that she will be fine if YOU are ok”

“Well, I guess she got that. She was stronger than me in the visit.”

“It was not about who was stronger kid, it was about being there for each other.”

I looked at the Butterfinger, not really hungry, but now desiring a snack before dinner. But what Joe said made sense, and in that there was a returning comfort, one I needed before I went too far on that path of depression. I smiled a bit and looked to Joe.

“I guess you’re right. Thanks.”

“No problem kid, we gotta help each other while we are here.”

“You sure you’re not some undercover cop or something? You just don’t look like a guy that should be here.” I said, as I opened the candy bar and took a bite.

“Look who’s talking? You look like you just graduated from college.” said Joe.

“Well, I did.”

“Hell, anybody could see that. It proves that anyone can end up in prison. Prison is not just a bunch of jackasses who don’t respect society. Some guys made mistakes, some are in bad positions. But sometimes the only real help we are going to get is from each other.”

“Yeah…I see.”

“So, did the visit go ok with you and your mom?” Joe asked.

“Yeah…actually, it was perfect.” I said, with the same smile I gave to mom.

Happy Mother’s Day mom.

The story you just read was something I created on the fly today, because I wanted to try a different approach on what inmates might think on certain issues. I used some of what I experienced while in prison, and my creative ideas. There are some true points in that story, some are fictional, because I wanted to paint as vivid a picture as I could for you guys.

This is the kinda thing I want to continue to do when I write my “Grades of Honor” but the difference between GOH and that short story is that the “Grades of Honor” is indeed a true account, every bit of it.

Feel free to share that short story with others if you think it helps, you have my permission to do that. If you want, make a comment, email me or pm me from a prison site, and I will be appreciative…

Oh well, it is a Friday afternoon, and I am still wrestling with my allergies. With the pills I am taking, I am MUCH better than Monday, probably a 90% out of 100%, but I am getting there. Thanks to those who emailed me and those who went back to some of those prison sites and bumped some of my posts back up a bit.

If you get nothing but one thing out of it, I would hope that you see what inmates do think about…some of them. I cannot speak for all of them, because that is not fair. But I want you to see some of the thoughts that inmates have concerning a loved one visiting them. If you can see it, I wanted you to see also that despite what most people think, sometimes inmates need a friend that is willing to keep them in good spirits…trust me when I say this, there ARE some guys in prison like that.

Not every inmate is a monster…even if he isn’t perfect.

Happy Mother’s Day all.


Entry filed under: girlfriends with boyfriends in prison, God and prison, inmates, jail, LostVault, mothers with sons in prison, prison, prison abuse, prison blogs, prison books, prison cards, prison food, prison jobs, prison mail, prison pen pals, prison support sites, Prison Talk Online, Prisonbid, rehabilitation, son in prison.

#175 Mother’s Day In Prison (pt 1) #177 Fighting through negatives (retro)

1 Comment Add your own

  • 1. chelleco1  |  May 10, 2010 at 7:58 pm

    Not sure what to say about this (pt.2) except AWESOME!


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