Sunday May 12, Mothers Day. I called my wife to wish her goodnight and she says I just talked with your sister and your brother was found dead today. …
Joshua and I weren’t “besties,” we have had our share of differences, but we were both locked up. Both wading through life in our own chains. Mine the physical, literal incarceration and his the physical, mental confinement of addiction. I will, with any grace, be walking away from my prison soon. He never outlived his. The last he and I ever spoke on it he was active in his use and was lashing out as most do when trapped in the spin cycle. I know it because I lived it also.
I have been clean and sober since Dec. 29, 2006. So I didn’t preach, I didn’t judge and I didn’t personalize any of the smear campaign that addicts get so good at. Almost like we are politicians! Instead I let him vent and just listened to how I failed him as a big brother. How I have spent my whole existence hiding out in the penitentiary. How I had no clue how hard life is out there… They say that even in the boldest lies there is often a grain of truth. Even in the ones we tell ourselves. I did fail as a big brother. I did “hide” behind my prison walls. And definitely, I have NO clue how hard it is in a world I’ve never experienced as an adult.
I had hoped that my resentencing that is now scheduled for August 9th, would of happened before he walked on so we could have a face to face. Just as everyone who has ever lost someone wishes for one last chance…
(As I write this I feel I must pause and acknowledge the families I caused this pain in due to my crimes, my own horrible choices. I am sorry.)
I would have loved to tell him he was right, even if not in the way he intended. Many of my fellow incarcerated have asked if I plan on going to the funeral. To most it is a chance to go on a trip, to get out and see some people they haven’t in a while. I have lost multiple family members over the past 31years of confinement and I never go.
The couple thousand dollars to pay for the staff escort… not doing it. The arrival of me in front of other mourners, other loved ones, dressed in an orange jumper and chained… How exactly is that suppose to help anyone? Nope. My opinion it would only compound the sorrows of those I say I love. And to me saying you love someone is more what you do, what you show, than just what you say. So for those living, I will stay “hiding” in my prison walls until I can walk home unhindered. Then I’ll venture to the resting places of fondly remembered faces and whisper one last I love you, and goodbye… Joshua, for the demons that were eating at you dinner is over, rest easy little brother.
You were loved…
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