Serving A Prison Sentence From The Outside

It started five years ago when I met the love of my entire life. A convicted felon, former drug dealer, former drug addict. The newspapers made him out to be some sort of monster, but no one saw the side of him that he showed me. Rewind ten years ago, this man was a senior at a well known Catholic school. He played football, participated in track, did well in school, and was accepted into a very hard college to get into. He is a person. I fought hard for him, and continue to fight hard for him on a daily basis. I fought for my family to see that despite his dark past, he is a person who simply made some bad choices that he shouldn't be punished for, for the rest of his life. He was good to my son, he was good to me, and my family accepted him once they saw that. He left me after six months because his ex-girlfriend came back. I knew it would happen, he loved her, he didn't love me, but at the end of the day, that man was the keeper of my entire heart. You simply don't give up on the people that you truly love.

Four years later, I got the text that changed my life forever. The love of my life was arrested again for something everyone who truly knew him, knew he didn't do. This man is not capable of hurting a woman or child. I know that, I know him. So, the next day I went to see him in jail. Have you ever had to sit in a dirty, disgusting booth behind nine inches of glass, and talk to the love of your life on a pay phone? You can't touch them, you just sit there and look at them, and talk through a phone. It's heartbreaking, devastating and one of the hardest things you have to go through when you truly love someone.

In the following months, despite what everyone was saying about him, I continued to stay by his side. I would go to the visit every single week. A short, half hour visit, that sped by like the speed of light. But I went, every single week. I never missed a court hearing, I wrote letters, I was there every single step of the way. Five years ago I made a promise to him that no matter what happened between us, I would always have his back. I keep my promises, promises aren't meant to be broken.

Have you ever had to see the love of your life be sentenced to a state correctional facility? The look of fear in his eyes, as I stood by him in front of the judge, it could make a grown man cry. He stood there in shackles, handcuffs, I was inches away from him yet I wasn't allowed to touch him. I could smell his breath, fresh mint like always. I tried everything in my power to hold back tears, as he looked down at me, and told me, "Everything is going to be okay. We got this. I love you." In that moment, his strength trumped his fear.

Two months after his sentencing, they moved him to a state correctional facility at 2:00 AM. We had no idea, they don't tell you for their safety. This whole journey was about to get harder on not only him, but his entire family and myself. I called the prison to make sure he arrived safely, in one piece, without any injuries. My next question was when could he call me? The aggressive, monotone corrections officer answered, "in six months" and hung up the phone, without any explanation as to why I wouldn't be able to hear his voice for 182.5 days. So I called back, the same heartless corrections officer answered the phone. So I asked, "When can I see him?" He replied, "Whenever he calls you, you'll know." I never felt so empty, I literally felt dead inside. So this is what our life is going to be like for a minimum of four years. I had to learn to accept it.

Six months finally came and gone, it seemed like an eternity. It was a Monday, at 6:00 PM when I answered the phone, pressed one to accept the call, and that voice I have been longing to hear came on the phone. "My baby. I thought I forgot what your voice sounded like. My god is it so good to hear that beautiful voice of yours." In that moment, I melted to the floor, a tear slowly rolled down my cheek, and I finally came out of shock and was finally able to get three words out, the three words that he needed to hear after six months. "I love you." The phone call was only ten minutes, talk about waiting an eternity for a phone call that flew by. It was everything, that phone call meant everything. Two months later, we were able to visit.

State prisons have such tough rules. They try to make it impossible for even loved ones just trying to see their family. I read the dress code a hundred times a day to make sure I followed the rules, because I wasn't going to drive three hours to be told I couldn't see him. No underwire bras, jeans, sweatpants, tank-tops, shorts, sandels, flip-flops, pumps, sweatshirts, hoods, the list goes on and on. I thought to myself, what am I supposed to wear? A garbage bag and boots? I just want to see him!

The drive felt like forever. I think I smoked an entire pack of cigarettes the entire way there, chewing gum in between and spraying myself with perfume to make sure I didn't smell like an ashtray. I finally got to the prison. I had butterflies, I was shaking, it was like the first time we were meeting all over again. I checked in with his mom and sister, we waited in the waiting area for a good forty-five minutes before being called to go through security. Then we were able to make the long walk down to the building where he was waiting for us. I thought we were never going to get there. I wanted to run, sprint, fly anything to get to him faster.

We walked through the door, and there he was. Our eyes met, he smiled with that infectious smile of his, bent down to hug me, kissed me the one kiss that we were allowed, and whispered in my ear, "My baby." I melted, I tried so hard to fight back tears but I couldn't help but letting them flow down my face. The wait was finally over. We were allowed one hug and one kiss at the beginning and end of the visit. That's it. I could only sit next to him, I couldn't hold his hand, I couldn't run my fingers through his beautiful long dark brown hair, I could not touch him. Period.

Seats 65-68, I'll never forget it. The chairs were connected, shaped in an L, a musty yellow color, and dirty. So dirty. We were able to eat with him, he looked so skinny, I could see his cheek bones. I had to put everything on a plate, no wrappers, no nothing. I couldn't hand him anything, I had to set it down on a table and then he had to pick it up. Prison. This was prison. We sat and talked for hours as I watched him scarf down the food as if he hadn't eaten in weeks. I sat next to him, but I couldn't touch him. If I touched him, they would end the visit. Before I knew it, it was time to leave. We walked up to the front, where we got to hug and kiss one last time. He squeezed me so tight, I didn't want to let him go. The tears started rolling down my face, as he grabbed my face so softly and kissed me long and hard. He let go of my lips, still holding on to my face, looking into my eyes and said, "this isn't going to be forever. I love you, laters baby." I stood there, like a statue as I watched him walk away down the plain, florescent lighted hallway, where I knew he would go into a cold, musty room to be strip searched again, and I had to make the long walk back to my car without him. This is prison.

I walked up to the corrections officer and handed in my paper. I waited for them to unlock to door to let me out, and I walked to my car. I pulled away from the prison, taking it all in, barbed wire covering every inch at the top of the gates, the officers patrolling on the roof with their guns, sobbing as I have to leave the love of my life there. Not knowing when the next visit would be, not knowing when the next phone call would be coming, not knowing anything and feeling completely dead inside. This is prison.

Having a relationship with someone in prison is by far the hardest thing anyone would have to do. It takes a strong woman, it takes a strong family, and they need a strong support system. Prison isn't for the weak minded. You'll never get the answers that you want, because the phone calls are recorded. You feel like you're in prison even though you aren't, because your life isn't the same without your loved one. You literally feel dead inside. Holidays are the worst, the empty chair where he would normally sit is empty. Fifteen minute phone calls whenever he can, because the inmates fight over the phones. Two hour visits once a week, one hug and kiss at the beginning and end of the visits. Long letters, short emails. This is prison.