Another year gone by

October 21st marked 28 years since he's been gone, but not really gone. I recently found out that there's a term for what I've been feeling all of these years. Ambiguous Loss. I have been doing a lot of research lately, in an effort to make lemonade out of the many lemons I have been accumulating, I am pursuing a Doctorate degree. The reason? To learn as much as possible about the effects of parental incarceration on their children and how to help (as an educator).  

God-willing, my husband will be home to see me graduate. And yes, he'll have to call me doctor! I have a lot of passion for learning and even more for educating others. My hope is to continue my journey and help de-stigmatize the prison experience in schools. How, exactly? That's the part of my story that I'll have to create. I am suddenly in a place where I have to think ahead, to look into a possible future. Something that is difficult for me. I'm more comfortable living in the moment, no more no less. Planning ahead isn't natural for me, I'm just used to so much changing that I find setting my mind on one outcome almost impossible. 

This 28-year journey has led me here. It has been bumpy and, at times it seems like it's been getting bumpier. This last year has brought our family COVID-19, first, my husband got sick a year ago. He is still suffering from some effects like cough and shortness of breath. Then I got sick late this summer, triggering a domino effect and infecting three of the kids. At around that same time, my husband, who was so excited to be taking college courses and to be in a special program, got some bogus ticket and went to the box. He received 60 days and got shipped 2 hours away. Once he's done with his time, he'll go God-knows-where! I wonder why I don't like planning ahead? Hmmm. 

Balancing work and the two kids I have left at home has been interesting. My big girls are away at college, so it's just the three of us most of the time. My son is 11 going on 62, he thinks he knows it all. He struggles with controlling his impulses, still! So this year, knowing that he has been lacking male influence and also being around black and brown folk, I registered him at a Charter School for Young Men. He hates it. I love it. I think he'll be ok. 

I am well into my second year as, what I like to call, a baby administrator at my new school. It's a great place to work, supportive, receptive, and the closest to a 'village' that I have ever seen in a school building. Why baby administrator, you may wonder? It has to do more with the way others see the position I have, rather than what I actually do. Basically, I live in limbo between being a teacher a school administrator. I have no job rights (I can get displaced in the blink of an eye), and my only option is to go back to teaching. Don't get me wrong, I love teaching, but having worked so hard to get here, it sucks to be on such unstable ground. 

My husband says "don't worry, your time will come!" Yeah, I know. OUR time will come. How can this man, 28 years a prisoner, be telling me about being patient and optimistic? 19 months to go... NINETEEN MONTHS!!! 

Deep breaths, I guess being a baby administrator in a great school is pretty sweet! Thinking about my husband's homecoming is exciting enough and working on my doctorate, not too shabby :) After all, as long as I help who, when, and where I can (as Dr. Principal B. likes to say), then it's all good!