37 and a half to life

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!...

A week ago, I had the pleasure of meeting a man named Joseph Heath , one of the lawyers that worked for many, many years to help some of the victims of the Attica Uprising. Recently, a book called Blood in the Water  written by Dr. Heather Ann Thompson , was released. It deals with the uprising, cover-up, charges and lawsuits that followed. As part of a series on the Attica Uprising, Mr. Heath was giving a presentation at SUNY Geneseo and I was invited by my good friend and faculty member, Michael Oberg . I was humbled and honored to be among so many intelligent and dedicated people, including the students, who represent our future. My hope for them is that they will learn from the past and not repeat the mistakes of their fathers and grandfathers. It was breathtaking to see them hang on to Mr. Heath's every word, as he spoke about the horrors of the uprising; the torture the inmates endured, even showing us pictures of swollen, bloody faces. I couldn't help but to think abo...