Monday, February 19, 2018


It has been almost two months since I’ve heard my husband’s voice on the phone. In the last letter he wrote, he told me that he would get his privileges back on March 11th (which happens to be my parents’ wedding anniversary), making it almost three months with no phone calls. I should be used to not hearing from him, but I'm not. The truth is that the last two months have been pretty unbearable. I have been feeling sad and disconnected, depressed even. When my phone rings, it never sounds like it does when he calls; his special ringtone has been silent.

I keep expecting to get interrupted by an inconvenient phone call, one that I would cherish and appreciate. I want to talk to my best friend. I want to tell him how work is going. That things are changing so quickly I can hardly keep up. I want to share news about our five year old and how she's starting to read on her own, that she misses her daddy and wants to hear his voice. I have to tell him about our daughter who graduates in June, her birthday was last week and N.Y.U is on the horizon for her, that she just got hired with her first job. A letter takes too long and by the time he responds, everything has changed. Snail-mail is no match for our ever-changing daily dramas... errrr... adventures! So we are always on a delay. The frustration comes across in my husband's letters as he feels like I'm not telling him 'something.' He's right. If I were to write down every detail and mail letters as they took place, I'd have no time to do anything else. So, he IS missing a lot... but I just can't help it. Later this week, when I see him, I will try to remember to tell him everything I've been wanting to say. Fingers crossed that I don't forget anything important!

This latest time out has highlighted how much I need the connection to my husband. The distance + no phone calls + snail mail has really resulted in this really terrible feeling of being disconnected.  No one to share my feelings with, no one to give me advice, no one to laugh at my corny jokes... I miss him terribly, but life goes on. At the moment, optimism escapes me; I have to reach deep within me to find a glimmer of hope for him and I. This isn't like me. Life has a way of slapping the pep outta you once in a while. He's currently stuck in what could be the worst place in NYS DOC. There have been ZERO developments in his case, and at this point, I wonder if there ever will be. Preferential Transfer (coming closer to home) may never happen if he can not maintain a perfect record for 12 months. Same with Trailers... so what do we have to look forward to? Frankly, I'm not sure.

What I DO know, is that we have gone too far to give up now. I will allow myself to be sad for a moment, that's OK. But the work of living and moving forward continues. Last week, while attending a training on restorative discipline, I read a quote that spoke to me... "EVERY FLOWER MUST GROW THROUGH DIRT" I reflected on this short phrase and thought about how it relates to mine and my husband's experience. After 24 years of dirt, we should have enough to grow an entire garden. Flowers of every color will grow from our pain-filled life. Perhaps they will grow on a vine, like Passion Flowers, then we would never feel disconnected again. Maybe.

No comments:

Post a Comment