Father’s Day has become one of the most honorable holidays I celebrate (internally) while inside prison but at the same time its a sobering, yearly, reminder of a man’s failures. I suppose that once life starts making sense for a man on the inside is when he realizes how much life he’s missing out on. Especially the lives of his miniature persons. For the most part I can only speak from my own accounts pertaining to being a father whilst in prison. Its been my own gift and curse over the years seeing that most men are lucky enough to NOT have to be concerned with the livelihoods of their children, yet on the other hand to know that I’ve produced 5 humans out there seems to be the “gift” part. Its a sign that I’ve lived, and had a life, before being in this position to where I have to mull over that life – in order to not miss out on so much life again.
Some back story: I am proud to say I didn’t come to prison and became “Father of the year” all of a sudden. I was present for the birth of 4 out of my 5 boys and I was actively present in their lives all the way up until I was incarcerated. I had my first son when I was 17 and my last son was born a few months after I turned 25. I’ve been puked on, pooped on, peed on, and a multitude of naps rudely interrupted by needy little ones. Yes I know parenting lol For the sake of remaining realistic and accountable for my situation, I acknowledge that my decision making skills 10-12 years ago were not up to par with parenting in tandem with having children who depended on me to be a safe, reliable, present, stable parent etcetera for them – because if my decision making WAS up to par, you wouldn’t be reading this from a prison based blog platform. Duh. With all that said, for the amount of time that I was present, I believe I left a decent impression on my sons, those of whom can remember me being there at least. For the past 10 years my relationship with them has been strained as a result my incarceration, as a result of their mother struggling to accept I don’t want a relationship with her anymore, and compounded by whatever woes life has thrown at her and our children altogether over the years.
Its safe to say that a majority of my newfound grey hairs are associated with fathering from prison lol Grey specks in my beard nudge me toward an early midlife crisis haha Nevertheless I’ve sent money, cards, calls at least twice a week, calls on birthdays, holidays etcetera over the years. To be transparent with you, all my motives were based on double entendre guilt. For example, even before I knew how to make children (lol) I vowed to myself to never let my children feel like they didn’t have a Dad and secondly now that I AM out of the picture to a degree, I still feel its my duty to permeate myself into their lives. While heartbreaking, my interactions with them continue to be gratifying. My 2 eldest children, 17 and 18 years old, could care less about how devout I am to be in their lives lmfao! Its that teenage nonchalance I guess. And I’m 100% sure they’re sick of me telling them how “I didn’t have a father in my life growing up so they should appreciate that I’m in theirs” speech lol My 3rd son, who just recently turned 12, is still at the cusp of that age where he wants my acceptance and yet he wants to show that he’s mature enough to figure things out on his own. He’s my chatterbox and the most transparent out of all my sons but I appreciate being able to relish in all their personality types. My 2 youngest sons, 11 and 10, are still too young to hold conversation for more than 8 minutes at a time haha but I enjoy listening to their perspectives on the world from their tiny view. At times, while they speak, I reflect on how vast and small and adventurous the world was for me when I was their age.. I didn’t even know what danger was when I was their age. Typically what follows the end of these phone calls is the deafening silence interrupted by men creating the background noise – bringing me back to the reality that my children are out there… and I’m in here… Thereafter I take a seat in the cell designated for me and take the time to caress my heart… and forgive myself… for abandoning my boys the way I have.. Its a damning conviction but a great reminder to be wiser with the life I have left.
Over time crying stopped easing the pain, but acknowledging that I get to get out and at least TRY to make up for lost time treats the symptoms of a broken heart. If you’re still reading this by now, I want to say that no part of this blog was meant for you to feel sorry for me. I honestly just want you to have a glimpse into the mind of ONE father who may be just emotionally intelligent enough to articulate that there are a multitude of ways a man can be punished in prison.. but the most heart wrenching punishment of all (for me) is to know your seeds are out there vulnerable to life without your protection. It is because of that reality is why us incarcerated Fathers need your help being present in our children’s lives. Whether that man was a great father before prison or “awakened” one day and knew he needed to be active in his children’s’ lives. Even if you’re a stranger who happens to meet someone who has children, I encourage you to help him find ways to be present for his child/children. Its one of the path ways to his soul.
* The beliefs, opinions, values, and perspectives expressed/shared by our guests, interviewee’s, and guest blogger’s are indeed their own and not that of PrisonBaes LLC, their affiliates, and employees.
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