visitation vivisection
We travelled to Somerset yesterday. As ready as I was to see Brandon and as calm as I could be, it still was hard. I guess the talk of bearing crosses in life applies no matter how much I want this. I can never escape the niggling unease of it all, the wrongness, the "this isn't how it was supposed to go", the interruptness of it all. I wanted to peace, I prayed for peace. Other people prayed for peace for me, and there were shining nuggets in the dirt. We got photos taken by a new machine that was installed in the dayroom, and much giggling and silliness happened trying to quickly pose the group of myself, my husband, my mother-in-law, daughter #2 and Bran in the few minutes you had before the shutter snapped automatically. I love watching Brandon swing into conversation that invariably includes hilarious impersonations, asides, quick jokes and family intimacies-he's like a missing puzzle piece in the picture of our lives, and he fits right back into place when we're together. I know it's also true for the families around us sharing hugs and sodas, playing games and trying to suspend the awful reality for just a few hours.
My thoughts rambled and rattled as we clattered home over highways and through small towns on the way home. They rolled slowly up the emotional rollercoaster and flew down without any control, swinging wildly from one thing to another, in and out of dazed sleep and jolts of wide-awakeness. I had to shake myself into the oncoming present of being home again without him, dealing with the things I had to put on hold as we planned to go and spend the day. The interruption ceased and life was flowing back in the faster we wheeled down the exit ramp to route 11.
We got another letter from Bran before we came, and I suppose I'll include a few snippets as I'm here in front of the computer screen, back home again and trying to stumble through my Saturday with some coherence. I just got home from the local prison and my Saturday ladies. I remind myself that without Brandon I wouldn't have my "Saturdaisies", and my partner's comment as we left them, "I feel so good after we've been here". So do I.
Here's Bran: "This week, Monty Python and the Holy Grail was on our movie channel. It's been a couple of years since I've seen it last. I made sure to catch my favorite parts, The Knights of Ne, the rabbit at the cave (Run away! Run away!), and Lancelot's assault on the wedding. Ok, the whole thing's my favorite part. I laughed until there was pain."
"I got a letter from Ma and Becky the other day. I sort of cocked my head at the idea of pierogies at a Cajun joint. I'd probably be thinking the same thing: "well, I know these
are safe." (Pierogies are a Polish dumpling found locally in NEPA , not generally served in Cajun restaurants in Philadelphia-Sue) There was followed up by a curious story of a far-away land of mythical tiny pants. Very strange. One of the few times I was in New York ("New Jork" depending on who you talk to) I saw a guy caught in traffic bolt out of his running car and grab a hot dog. Since, I've wondered about the killing I could make selling fast-food to people in traffic jams. I'm tellin' ya, a motorcycle with a broiler side-care=genius!"
That's my boy!
My thoughts rambled and rattled as we clattered home over highways and through small towns on the way home. They rolled slowly up the emotional rollercoaster and flew down without any control, swinging wildly from one thing to another, in and out of dazed sleep and jolts of wide-awakeness. I had to shake myself into the oncoming present of being home again without him, dealing with the things I had to put on hold as we planned to go and spend the day. The interruption ceased and life was flowing back in the faster we wheeled down the exit ramp to route 11.
We got another letter from Bran before we came, and I suppose I'll include a few snippets as I'm here in front of the computer screen, back home again and trying to stumble through my Saturday with some coherence. I just got home from the local prison and my Saturday ladies. I remind myself that without Brandon I wouldn't have my "Saturdaisies", and my partner's comment as we left them, "I feel so good after we've been here". So do I.
Here's Bran: "This week, Monty Python and the Holy Grail was on our movie channel. It's been a couple of years since I've seen it last. I made sure to catch my favorite parts, The Knights of Ne, the rabbit at the cave (Run away! Run away!), and Lancelot's assault on the wedding. Ok, the whole thing's my favorite part. I laughed until there was pain."
"I got a letter from Ma and Becky the other day. I sort of cocked my head at the idea of pierogies at a Cajun joint. I'd probably be thinking the same thing: "well, I know these
are safe." (Pierogies are a Polish dumpling found locally in NEPA , not generally served in Cajun restaurants in Philadelphia-Sue) There was followed up by a curious story of a far-away land of mythical tiny pants. Very strange. One of the few times I was in New York ("New Jork" depending on who you talk to) I saw a guy caught in traffic bolt out of his running car and grab a hot dog. Since, I've wondered about the killing I could make selling fast-food to people in traffic jams. I'm tellin' ya, a motorcycle with a broiler side-care=genius!"
That's my boy!
posted by Sue O. (aka Joannie, SS) at 8:19 AM
2 Comments:
Even though it must be difficult to see Brandon in the prison, at least you get to visit with him. I've not seen mine since he was arrested in November. I may not even get to be down there for the trial (although I'm not sure I could handle it if I could!). Being so far away is torture on one hand, and I think a small blessing on the other.
You're right. I remember the non-contact visitation. I just so wish I could overcome any real discomfort. I think it's just wired into my personality aside from the personal link. I feel claustraphobic and uneasy through the whole trip as much as I don't want to.
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