37 and a half to life

Tonight is my husband's last night of captivity. In less than 12 hours he will be a free man, at least physically. His spirit and his mind have never been imprisoned.  I have no words for the way I feel right now. This is too big to describe!  Last Sunday I visited my husband for what I hope will be the last time. As I sat in the visiting room, I was flooded with memories; how I imagine one's life flashes before we die. I saw myself as a young woman, nervously waiting, butterflies in my stomach. I thought about the countless ordeals and hurdles just to see my loved one. I experienced the sweat, that even when it's freezing outside, manages to invade my temples. Only someone who has lived this prison-from-the-outside experience can relate.  While I sat in the visiting room I noticed the young families, the parents visiting their adult children, the in-love couples, and I thought about the advice I would give someone who is new to this life:  *Keep your cool- many peop...

It's the final countdown. ..  I sing to myself in a 1980s rock 'n roll superstar voice. Someone asked me the other day, "So your husband will be home soon, how do you feel?" Hmmm, I guess I can compare the feelings I have to those I felt when one of my babies was soon to be born. My nesting instincts have kicked in, his going-home clothes are ready, and I am taking in every moment because once he's here, my life will never be the same. I anticipate an enormous learning curve for the entire family, though the details escape me.   Life, as I know it, will change drastically in less than one month. My kids, who have never seen their father as a free man, may not recognize him without his state greens, the prison uniform he donned for nearly three decades. Will they believe their eyes when they finally see him at the front door? Every disappointment, every failed attempt to free him, will only be a memory. All those times we fantasized about him 'surprising' u...

The dictionary defines 'false hopes' as confident feelings about something that might not be true. I can bet that nearly everyone has experienced false hopes at some point of their life. As I reflect on the last 26 years, there have been many moments of hope that later turned out to be false. From the moment my husband was arrested, knowing that everything would be OK and he would be released. But he hasn't come home, yet. In 2005, the Rockefeller  Reform gave hope to a lot of inmates. Many became eligible for re-sentencing under the new guidelines. Some were fortunate enough to go home. My husband held out hope that this would be instrumental in his return. He drafted out his own motion, a lawyer was hired to represent him and when his time came, he received a time cut. From having 25- life he now was to serve 20 years flat on the drug conviction. When he was re-sentenced, the judge made no mention of his consecutive sentences. So, for the next 4 years or so, we hop...

Almost a year since my husband has been closer. An hour drive to see him is still nothing compared to the 5 and a half from before. This last year has been full of getting back to our 'normal'; regular visits, daily phone calls (that are longer than 15 minutes!), bringing packages, etc. With more interaction, though, also came more conflict. More interruptions in my day (that sometimes weren't taken kindly), more being in the 'know' at the home-front (more about that another time :) But also more conversations about how to get over those conflicts because, soon, we'll be under one roof (God willing!). It feels good to have him near, almost like he's here! And now, with the help of technology and of course money, we have found a way to get closer. So, a couple of months ago my husband called and announced that he had finally gotten the long awaited and highly anticipated "TABLET!" It was the cutest thing ever, hearing him talk about the feature...

Have you ever taken your kids to the playground only to have THAT kid show up? The one that always makes some other kid cry within five minutes of his arrival? The one that made you cringe when you found out he was in your daughter's first grade class? The one teachers pray he'll stay home... just ONCE!? We have all met THAT kid. Some of us have been THAT kid. Well... I'm his mom! Some call him spirited, others energetic, active, full of life... he needs to burn energy, yes. It started when he was 6 months old; he let out a shriek unlike anything I had ever heard before. As he got older, he was perceived to be 'aggressive' towards his peers. As an observer, I think he had a hard time with spatial awareness... he was clumsy and impatient so he would push his way through (the playground, a line, etc.). I was so hurt and embarrassed to hear other parents complain about THAT kid, that I started taking him to the playground when I knew it would be empty or close ...

Last night my eldest daughter called me, and with excitement, announced that she had run into a friend who, in her words, was "well connected." She sounded like her eight year old self whenever she learned something that really peaked her interest and filled her with curiosity- she couldn't stop talking! "Mami, this guy has dinner with Judges and Federal Prosecutors, he says he can help us, that all it takes is money and Papi can be home... he can come home, like tomorrow!!!" I listened to the high pitched sounds of my daughter's hopeful speech but I could not bring myself to share her sentiment. She sounded amazed to find out that all it takes is money, "you're preaching to the choir," was my thought, but I let her continue. She talked about privilege and that, for once, we may have a connection with someone who has it and can use it to help us. OK, so she has a point... but is it too late? My first thought is, I have no money. I have ex...

Today I want to share a cautionary tale. One that I am still dealing with, unrelated to my husband's incarceration... or is it? Well, it depends on whether you subscribe to the idea of gender roles and chores. There is where my latest 'adventure' began. I was feeling overwhelmed with work, kids' busy schedules, house chores, etc. Everyday, as I got into my car, I noticed how high my grass was getting and I prayed for no rain so the growth would slow down... to no avail. One Sunday afternoon, as I washed dishes (mentally preparing for the inevitable cutting of the grass) my doorbell rang. I opened the door and a man was standing there, accompanied by a 13 (or so) year old boy. They said they were going around asking neighbors if they wanted their grass cut (I felt like my prayers had just been answered), so before I knew it, we had settled on a price and the man and his son were cutting my grass. I went back to my dishes and the next thing I knew, they were done. ...

It feels like forever since I've had time to write. I have been busy beyond belief, busy in a good way, busy nonetheless. I have been fortunate enough to be working on Saturdays at my school. We have been providing workshops for the entire family including recreational activities such as swimming. It has been such a rewarding experience for me because I have gotten to know many of the students and their families and have build a deeper connection with them. I also get to bring my own kids (the little ones), who absolutely love it. My son gets to play basketball with other kids and my daughter is practically swimming on her own. A couple of weeks ago, for Mother's Day, we held a workshop called "Mindfulness for Mom." My awesome LINKS partner and School Social Worker lead the workshop with a group of moms and caretakers. They got to talk about self care and then they made scented sugar scrubs. The ladies walked away happy, some commenting that 'this is what I n...

Last night I heard from my eldest daughter that she experienced trauma from growing up with an incarcerated father. That she doesn't like going to see him because it is painful for her. I had never heard this before. Ever. It made me feel sad. And like a bad mother. Did I make a mistake in exposing my child to prison life?  I began to think about the experiences we had, the two of us. First, I thought about the fact that I was 20 years old when this journey began. My daughter was 9 months old. We were suddenly abandoned, left to navigate life on our own (without Daddy). As time passed and my daughter got older, prison became her playground. She had the biggest personality in the room, always. When we would visit my husband, almost every inmate would say hello to her. She would manage to end up with candy, chips, and other treats that were given to her as she visited and greeted people around the visiting room. Back then, the rules were not as strict as they are today. My daught...

Friday was a good day! I went to work and it was an unusually busy day. There were events taking place throughout the day, the students had lots of energy and excitement was in the air. If I didn't know any better, I would have thought it was a full moon! At two o'clock, we had a special visitor.  Congresswoman Louise Slaughter  (who I greatly admire for being a voice for my community) came to our school to read a special book. With her was the President of our School Board, Author and Civil Rights Attorney,  Van White , who wrote a book titled  Heroes . The Congresswoman would be reading the book to a group of fourth graders from the Boys' Academy. Among those students were the kids that have been participating in the LINKS Program . The book spoke about the heroes in our lives, everyday people that can make a difference. It also gave examples of what is NOT a hero... good point. The kids loved it. As the Congresswoman read to the children, they asked questio...

I can't wait til Friday. I can't wait 'til summer. I can't wait for school to start. I can't wait for vacation... it seems like we spend our lives waiting for something. When I was pregnant I would count the days until my next doctor's appointment because I'd get to hear my baby's heartbeat and it also meant that I was closer to meeting him or her. Once that baby was born I couldn't wait to lose the baby weight (which never seemed to want to leave me) and get to wear 'normal' clothes again. I couldn't wait to hear the baby say ma-ma and take those first steps. And so on and so forth. I hardly got to reflect on what just took place because I was already thinking about what was to come. Writing down my experiences has forced me to look back and to think about what has occurred and to process what is happening in my life as I am waiting. The waiting for me is the background of my life. As I am moving forward or standing still, no matter ...

When I began writing about my experience, my husband asked, "what about me?" "What about you?" I replied. He then admitted that he wanted to be "featured" on some of the posts. I told him I had shared some of his poems, but he wanted to write in a more direct way. It is very difficult for him to put his experiences into writing sometimes. How can you process something while it's still happening? Still, he wants others to know...  So a few days ago he put the following in the mail. He calls it "We Rise Above The Clouds of Deception" Meaning: We have learned to take our pain and turn it into the fuel we will need to move forward in securing a strong and positive foundation for our links to the future (children). This can only be accomplished by internalizing life lessons and blessings. They prepare us for upcoming trials and tribulations and give us a clear perception of the truth. So we see people and things for what they are and not for wha...

A couple of weekends ago, my youngest two children and I went to visit my husband. On that Saturday morning, I woke up at 3:30 am in hopes of having everything ready for our trip. I packed not one, but TWO pair of shoes for the diva, bathing suits for the pool at the hotel (kids need to have fun), meds, snacks, electronics, IDs, cash, etc. I got myself ready and, coffee in hand, headed out with the sleepy-eyed kids. We made the 5+ hour drive. Once we arrived, we sat in the hospitality center (a dingy, portable room, posing as a welcome center/waiting room). It was full of people waiting to see their loved ones. We were number 63 so we would be waiting for at least another hour to be let in. Thankfully, the kids were able to entertain themselves with my phone (they have lockers to secure personal items before entering the facility). When our number was finally called, I gathered our items; money for the machines, IDs, pictures to show my husband, then locked up my phone and car keys. ...

For the past decade or so I have been thinking about how I might turn this experience into action. There has always been something keeping me from being able to give more of myself to anything other than my family. Between sports and other extracurricular activities my evenings have been pretty busy. Throw in prison visits and other weekend commitments and that left me no time for anything else. Then, five years ago, our surprise baby made her debut. It was the middle of October of 2012 and she was the cutest little thing! Everyone loved her right away. And even though she was unexpected she was not unwanted, she completed our family. So, big brother (who was still only two years old himself) was thrilled with the addition and life was pretty good. Then, five weeks later, our world changed when he was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. It was the worst time of my life. Even worse than when my husband lost his freedom. This diagnosis sucked the joy out of me and I was suddenly drown...

It's been a couple of weeks or so since I last wrote. I've been doing a lot of thinking after having a brief but unsettling conversation with my father last week. First, I'll explain how we got to that point...  Following the destructive path of Hurricane Maria, my family moved forward with plans made long ago to celebrate my Titi's 75th birthday in Florida. The occasion took greater meaning when all 9 of my mother's siblings would attend. It had been decades since all 10 had been under the same roof... not to mention cousins and their kids (and in some cases, THEIR kids!) how could I miss that! Family came from PR, NY, NJ, CT... This event had turned into a bonafide Family Reunion!  I traveled by airplane with my 7 year old diabetic son and 5 year old first time flyer. I was nervous because I hadn't flown with my son since he had been diagnosed almost five years ago. I didn't know what to expect since we have to travel with so many supplies and medicine...

In recent years I have heard these words come out of my husband's mouth, "you, know I'm damaged, right?" he'll say. I know exactly what he means. He's not the same person he was 24 years ago and not always for the better. He is conscious of the toll prison has had on him both physically and emotionally. When we are on a visit, his eyes are often scanning the room. He is very aware of the environment, noticing things I never would have. If he senses that I'm getting annoyed, he'll apologize and explain that it's about survival. Then he wonders what life at home will be like. I have always said that we will need help, professional help. For many years he declared that nothing was wrong with him and therefore nothing needed fixing and he would not be participating in any head shrinking of any sort! I always stood by my opinion... we are going to need help. Since he has been 'noticing' that he is 'damaged' he has been open to talking ...

The last seventeen days have been heavy. That's the number of days I spent without knowing anything about my husband. Add one more and that's how long it has been since Hurricane Maria hit my birthplace, Puerto Rico. The sadness in my heart has been unbearable. Not knowing whether my family members were alright; having no way of communicating with my aunts, uncles, cousins on the island was unnerving. Then, not being able to share my feelings with my best friend and worrying about him as well... that was heavy! I had a headache that lasted precisely seventeen days. Today, I'm happy to report, I am headache free! My family has reported (little by little) and everyone is fine. Material items can be replaced, but more importantly, everybody is safe. Puerto Rico was battered by the hurricane. To this day, most of the island remains in the dark and many people have no running water. The conditions are scary. We, on the mainland, see the slow progress from afar. Facebook has be...

Amid all of the sadness we have been feeling, collectively, I thought I would share one of many visitation tales that at the time seemed tragic but now make me chuckle. Two years ago, when my husband was "living" among the Adirondack mountains, I made plans to visit him for the day with our 13 and just turned 3 year olds. The previous night (Friday) my nieces and nephew were visiting, so the house was 'lively'! I cooked dinner while entertaining children and also threw together our travel bag for our trip. The bag contained birth certificates, clothes, shoes, snacks, toys for the way, etc. Early the next morning (at about 5 am) I rose up the teenager, picked up the sleeping tot, put her in her car seat, and set out into the dark road. Driving next to an obviously grumpy, sleepy and perhaps angry teen-aged girl is the stuff nightmares are made of. I apologized to her, knowing the sacrifice she was making by even being here, to which she responded, "uh huh!...

Today is Wednesday. The last time I spoke with my husband was last Thursday. My 'wifey' senses were tingling. Something was not right. Last time we spoke he told me that Ben Stiller and his crew were in town, filming a movie based on the infamous escape. The prison was put on lock down and as a reward, everyone was given ice cream. "They treat us like kids," he complained. "But you still ate the ice cream?" I asked in my smart aleck voice. "Of course!" he replied. And that was that. I was hoping maybe that movie was still being filmed, but knowing better than that, I made a phone call. A snarky sounding man asked me for his information and then replied "Well, he got himself a ticket and lost telephone and other privileges for 15 days, that's why you haven't heard from him!" I asked if he could still get visits and he said yes. I breathed a sigh of relief; I had just booked a hotel so I can go see him 10 days from now. I thanked ...

Most people in NY State (and many around the country) are familiar with the Attica Uprising of 1971.   Although I wasn't even born yet when it happened, I remember hearing about this horrible place called Attica when I was a teenager. Years later I would be visiting said place, with just a vague idea of what actually happened there decades prior. My husband, being inside, heard all about how it happened. It was like a folk tale being told and re-told among the inmates. He has never shared with me everything he knows about the events. As a general rule, there is a lot he doesn't tell me. I imagine that he's trying to spare me the worry that would follow if I knew too much. But I know enough. Attica, 2012 I was 8 months pregnant What I can say about Attica, from my personal experience, is that visiting was a pain, pretty much like everywhere else. The officers that processed the visitors were usually unpleasant and I have many memories of them being quite rude to me- ...