#IrememberthatPain: Mother of An Incarcerated Son

Recently, I was headed to the state capital for some internship duties. The legislative session was in progress and I was about to see a part of this process. It was a great day, full of excitement and new things to learn. I couldn't wait to see it all in action. On our way there, we discussed the purpose of the trip, what we would be doing, who we were to see and the follow up process. During our conversation, we passed a white bus with very dark windows that were covered by bars. I knew that bus, overstood the scene and immediately, as I am doing now, began to silently weep. It was the bus that transports inmates to their next facility.

I remember vividly, when my son was incarcerated I would receive those letters or phone calls before a move was to take place and how I cried for days until I heard from him again. It felt almost like that first day of school with your child ... will the correction officers (C.O.) and other inmates there like him? Will they treat him well, fair? Has anyone from the previous facility called with a heads up about him? Be it good, bad, true or false? Will he be assaulted because he's new? Those are the things that immediately ran through my mind during that time. I can only imagine how the mother of any of those inmates were feeling at the time of this transport.

I needed to let go of what I had begun feeling inside, there was too much excitement in the air to be sad. I was heading to the state capital for a morning of learning but that too familiar lump in my throat had risen. You know, the one we get when we attempt to suppress a much needed emotional cry? Yea, that one and I struggled to keep the tears at bay but it was hard. For a little while, I was able to stare out of the my window to allow a few tears to fall and not be noticed. I am thankful for this internship being under the watchful eye of a good friend who knows about that part of my life. I believe he knew very well what I was doing as I stared out of the window that morning but he did not intrude.

You see, although my son has been home since June 2014, I still feel like he's away. I have watched him walk around physically free but mentally incarcerated and as a result our relationship has perished. I believe if he and I were in a better place I probably wouldn't be stuck on situations like a prison transport bus passing by almost 2 weeks ago but I am. I can't help thinking that had he not made that mistake in his life that we'd be in a better place, he and I, but (Kanye shrug) no need dwelling on the what if's because it happened and as a result I remember that pain.