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...

Drawing by our 10 y/o son March 14, 2020 was be the last time I would see my husband under 'normal' circumstances on a visit. Pre-COVID 19 might become the way some of us refer to life as we knew it prior to that date. Since my husband arrived at this current medium security facility in December 2018, I have visited him regularly. Every facility has a different procedure for visitors to follow even before getting in. In Attica, if we visited during the weekend, we would have to wait by our car to be picked up by a van, taken to the hospitality center where we would wait for our turn to be driven back to the main building and THEN be processed for the visit.  This particular facility has a different way. Upon arrival, the first place to go is the hospitality center, fill out a visit pass (which has a number on it). Then if you drove, you go back to your car and wait for your number to show in the window. At that time you walk to the building, get processed and (hopefully) visit....

Last night, my husband called and we had a lively conversation. He was in good spirits as we discussed the kids, current events, future plans, etc. It was a normal conversation and then he announced that he had to go. We said our goodbyes and right before hanging up, he said, " I'm proud of you !" Then he was gone. I sat there, phone in hand, thinking to my self, "how in the world, does someone like that exist in such a negative environment?" Actually, negative is putting it mildly. What I really believe it to be is TOXIC. He's proud of me. I should be telling him that I am proud of him !  For staying alive, sane, healthy. It should be the first thing I say to him every time we speak, but instead, he's saying it to me. Wow. He is in hell and yet he finds the way to, not only keep his own spirits up and stay positive, but to bring me encouragement. His actions speak volumes about his character. I have known him to share every last bit of a long awaited p...

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. ...

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 ...

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!...