CURVEBALLS

There are conversations that I have in here… behind these wired gates that seem so easily penetrated but hold such power over all of our lives… that grab and clamp down… almost taking my breathe away. I had one of these conversation this past week. I have had the pleasure of getting close with one of the older guys in here that moved “across the street” aka hallway from me about 8 months ago. He has “been down” for 14 years and will be released this September. We first bonded over football and making mock fantasy teams together and playing against each other for fun each week… which turned into all kinds of crazy made up games that kept us busy throughout the season. Week by week… we shared a little bit more with each other… about our past… about what brought us to this place… about life and everything in between. From day one… he has gushed about how thankful he is for his wife… how they have been together for over 48 years… how she has stuck by him throughout this whole craziness of 14 years… how she is such an incredible mother and grandmother and how he feels so grateful that they will be able to have a second chance at life together come September… “to finish life together” as he put it. I have told him a little bit about my situation and we talk about the boys often… as he has young grandsons. I think he enjoys watching me read them bedtime stories on the phone when I get the chance to do that just as much, if not more, than they do. He is a good man and one of the guys in here that I am genuinely happy that I have built a connection with throughout our time together.

He has been a bit off as of late and I gave him some space for the first week or so because that happens often in here… times get hard and sometimes we all need our space so I tried to give it to him. But it didn’t seem to be getting better so I pulled him aside one afternoon and asked him if he wanted to go “spin a few laps” with me on the track to talk. He agreed and we headed outside on the next move. “You doing alright? I don’t want to overstep but I have just noticed you haven’t come out of your room much lately and seem down. Want to make sure everything is okay.” I said. There was a long pause and then I could see tears welling up in his eyes. You know that feeling when you have bottled something inside for so long without telling anyone and then finally someone brings it up and you just can’t control your emotions any longer… that was this. Tears flowed down his cheeks and he quickly wiped his face as he is not the type of man who is comfortable showing emotion… especially not in a place like this. “I’m here man. What’s going on?” “My wife Zach. My wife has to have open heart surgery and I just…” His voice trails off as the tears start to flow again and my heart simultaneously sinks. He goes on to explain to me that his wife hadn’t wanted to worry him because she didn’t think it was as serious as it is but apparently has been having issues over the past few months and finally went in to get it checked to find out that it is serious and she is in need of surgery immediately. We continued to talk for the next hour… slowly walking laps around the track. I tried to let him be the one talking as much as possible and simply be there for him… in whatever way that I could to provide some semblance of comfort and as much hope as I possibly could for him. It was a difficult conversation… and it has weighed heavily on me ever since… I can only imagine how he feels…

As I have digested the situation and the discussion over the past few days…. I have come away with two very distinct and opposite thoughts. First… how absolutely devastating these type of situations are and how they are exponentially exacerbated by long (too long) incarcerations. This is just one example… of hundreds or thousands… every year where an incarcerated individual and his/her family survives the journey… makes it through all those days and months and years to get to that magical date in the computer when they can be together again… to only have life throw a horrific curveball and completely derail the dream. It is just so sad and unbelievable petrifying. When you hear stories such as this one… it is another example of the fact that we cannot take one day for granted… one single phone call or visit… everything counts and we must cherish it because none of us know what tomorrow may bring. And second… it has been such a surprising experience in here to be a part of and witness the genuine community and support system that us guys form behind these gates. We are here for each other… in a weird way… we are the only ones that can really be here for each other because we are the only ones that fully understand the experience of being ‘here’ when everyone we love is ‘there’. I read something the other day that perfectly depicted this strange but profound bond that we share… it said that a support group taught him that grief can exist along with our laughter and our joy, along with our friendships and relationships, and that it didn’t have to be tucked away into a “sadness silo”. I thought this was extremely profound and unbelievably true. Ironically… in this hostile… strange… oppressive environment of prison… we find the courage (through the support of our “homeboys”) to openly share our struggles… our grief… our pain… alongside the laughter and jokes. And through this outlet… we are able to navigate the harsh realities of our current living environment.

My heart aches for my “homeboy”, his wife and his family… I have to believe that all will go well with the surgery and they will be able to “wake up” from their 14 year shared dream and actually live it together in freedom. We have to hold onto that hope… sometimes it is the only thing we have control over…

STAY HEALTHY (PLEASE!). Stay Active. Don’t take one moment for granted.