blue christmas
Some days are just hard. I suppose it's a self-indulgence to have a place to complain, or even allow myself to feel as black and blue as the day seems. The razor wire is taking it's toll. Some days I just don't know what to do, and it is worse being surrounded by such happy things at Christmas-cards taped around our kitchen doorway, a little fiber optic tree, cookies on the kitchen table, lights outside and our ugly bird collection all festive surrounded by white blinkers. I selected the most brutal episode of CSI the other night, and eschewed the politely sweet Christmas programming. I watched the triple murder of a family being solved, the processing of a burn victim as evidence, the emotional drama of the caseworkers as they were effected by all the things they dealt with on a daily basis. Hollywood or no, only such a hideous dose of hyper-reality seem to speak to my soul. I need real. Real is knowing every single day your kid is incarcerated with society's worst. Not only with them, he's one of them.
Maybe it is just too soon to try to put a frame around all of this, and wrap it with a bow or a stamp marked "case closed". That would be like closing up a surgery patient before taking out all of the cancer. It takes the time it takes. It takes the pain it takes. It takes the method it takes to work all of this through. I'm going to voluntarily involve myself directly in the lives of people who are imprisoned whent the new year begins. I'm already involved in someone else's life who has been incarcerated for years now. The only thing I know is that tragedy, disaster, pain, separation, incarceration, the worst of life, effects everyone differently. I reach out every day to try and walk this path well. But nothing stops the days from passing when it will be a visitation time again. Trying to face that is like trying to face the most savage beating willingly, and then be ready to do it all again over and over for years.
It must be naive to think I'll escape this life without pain that invades every day. No one gets out unscathed. In fact to never face trials keeps us weak and unable...still, to slowly become numb to everything is to invite foolish reasons to remind myself I'm still breathing. Just being alive is enough for that. But I wish today the pretty cards and lights would be the reason, not the pain.
Maybe it is just too soon to try to put a frame around all of this, and wrap it with a bow or a stamp marked "case closed". That would be like closing up a surgery patient before taking out all of the cancer. It takes the time it takes. It takes the pain it takes. It takes the method it takes to work all of this through. I'm going to voluntarily involve myself directly in the lives of people who are imprisoned whent the new year begins. I'm already involved in someone else's life who has been incarcerated for years now. The only thing I know is that tragedy, disaster, pain, separation, incarceration, the worst of life, effects everyone differently. I reach out every day to try and walk this path well. But nothing stops the days from passing when it will be a visitation time again. Trying to face that is like trying to face the most savage beating willingly, and then be ready to do it all again over and over for years.
It must be naive to think I'll escape this life without pain that invades every day. No one gets out unscathed. In fact to never face trials keeps us weak and unable...still, to slowly become numb to everything is to invite foolish reasons to remind myself I'm still breathing. Just being alive is enough for that. But I wish today the pretty cards and lights would be the reason, not the pain.
posted by Sue O. (aka Joannie, SS) at 12:24 PM
1 Comments:
As a mom who's son has recently been incarcerated, I can so relate to this pain.
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