“You don’t have friends in here, Zach. You have acquaintances and at some point… you may have 1 or 2 homeboys that are a little more than acquaintances but never forget that you are in prison.”
This was the advise that I got my second day out of quarantine when I first got to T.I. from a 77 year old man that is serving multiple life sentences. He has been incarcerated for 50 years and knows nothing of this world outside of prison walls but knows these prison walls very well. But… his story is for another day because one of my “homeboys” is leaving this week and that is what is and has been on my mind these past few days.
Although the advise I got from O.G. is certainly sound and followed by me in almost all circumstances in here… I do feel like a friend is heading home this week. There aren’t many situations in life that parallel the relationships that you can build inside these walls. You walk into a dorm when you first arrive… completely vulnerable and inexperienced in every imaginable way… 100 sets of eyes stare at you and size you up immediately… and if you are lucky one of those sets of eyes will belong to a guy that you have a feeling is different from the others. That is what happened when I walked into K Unit for the first time after quarantine and met my homeboy. He showed me which bed was mine… helped get me some essentials to survive until I shopped at commissary for the first time and immediately reminded me of someone that I could be friends with outside of this situation… all of which eased my mind and allowed me to exhale for the first time during those early days.
Due to the prison environment, bonds can be formed quickly because of the shared experience that is only understood by the one’s living it. We have the same stressors of day to day life, the struggle of trying to be a “present” Dad while incarcerated, the inability to help in meaningful ways in our lives outside of T.I, our lack of control in regard to what happens to us on a minute to minute basis in here… we both were going through all of it… uniquely but together every single day. Then you add the daily work outs, track talks, chats on “our bench” after dinner… the routine we built together because of the environment that we live in and you realize that you spend hours and hours every single day with each other. He is/was a massive part of my life (as I know it) in here. Then one day… he wakes up and walks out the door. His chapter is over. He has served his time… Tuesday he is an inmate and Wednesday… he is free. Such a wild lifestyle shift.
I am so genuinely happy for him. When I think about him hugging his wife and kids… it brings tears to my eyes and I have never even met them. But I know his pain… his longing to be with them… his heartbreak for the missed moments… and I can imagine how absolutely incredible it is going to feel to walk out these doors and be able to be the Dad, Husband, and Man that he already is but without the “inmate” identity hindering his ability to fully fill those roles.
He has told me that he feels bad that he is leaving and I am staying but his leaving only adds more fuel to my fire. It shows me that this journey has an end date… that the day will come when I get to walk out these doors… that I get to be fully present and physically there for my boys… my family… my friends again. His leaving gives me hope… shows me the ability to successfully complete this process and be a better man on the other side of it. It shows me that this place doesn’t break you (if you do not allow it to) and that you can leave here a complete, superior version of your previous self… if you put in the work while you are here.
Thank you homeboy. Thank you for being a positive in a very negative place. Thank you for being “normal” among the very “abnormal”. Thank you for giving me hope as I continue my journey. Sincerely… Thank You.
You better stay “official” out there… can’t wait to see you outside these walls one day.