Mourning (#30)

This morning my bunkie found out that his mom died of cancer. There was no pretense of concern by this institution. He was paged over the loudspeaker to a secretary’s office. The secretary told him his mom had died earlier that morning. I wasn’t around when he was notified, but I would imagine the information was presented in a prison sort of way, much like the way my step-mother’s passing was. . . matter of factly, as if I had no emotions. It is a secretary’s job to tell my bunkie of the news, much like the how it is the guard’s job to yell out our names during mail call or a food service worker slopping a hamburger and rice casserole onto our tray with an ice cream scoop. It’s a job, and they do it and it’s done. There are no follow-up questions indicating concern or empathy. You are told, then excused.

Earlier this week, my friend learned that both his dad and his grandmother had heart attacks. While his dad appears to be fine, he is concerned that his grandmother will not make it. Fortunately my friend discovered this by talking to his family (as I had about my step mom) and not through the prison information network.

When I learned that my step mom’s cancer had returned not too long ago, and that the doctor’s did no think she would live much longer, I knew that I probably would not see my step mom again. Now, my bunkie is facing the same emotions. Like my friend wondering if he will see his grandmother again, all of us have the same feeling of helplessness. I wrote earlier about the worry list. This is similar, but different. We know we could not do anything even it on the outside, but the helplessness that comes with the lack of closure is different. We can’t do anything to provide comfort for those hurting. We can’t say goodbye, or thanks for everything. Our being here probably adds to the pain our loved ones felt, and that only adds to some sort of guilt that our transgression may have caused this. Still, there is nothing we can do, and that is the hardest part about prison.

I have two grandmothers that are still alive. Since my indictment over three years ago I have not talked to either of them. It occurred to me this week (the holidays also make one think a lot about family) that I may not see either of them again. However, for some reason or other, I have withheld my love from them. Maybe it’s pride that constrains me, maybe fear. I don’t know yet, but I do know that in prison I don’t have the opportunity to visit them, hug them, or have dinner with them. I may have missed my opportunity to show Christ’s love to my own family.

I could go on by saying we can pray and trust God. In fact, that is true, but it doesn’t always console people here, or on the outside to say that. No, what I want to say is take advantage of the opportunities you do have to console or help someone who is hurting. There is no lack of hurting people looking for someone to unconditionally love them. My guess is that there is someone who is 100 yards away from you that is hurting; maybe even someone in your own family. Now that the holidays are here, take the time to connect with them and tell them that you are thinking about them or that you love them. Like me, you may not get another chance.

Jeff