"Lady, are you crazy? This is my life we are talking about and you have been counting days?" I remember my son looking back at me and saying in disdain. He was taken back by my having counted the 585 days from his arrest until his sentencing trial date was established.
Little did he know I started counting the day he was born. I counted on him being successful. I counted on him being educated. I counted on him being a good strong man. I counted on him being a man of character. I counted on him being a man of promise. I could go on at least 585 ways I was not only counting but counting on him.
Later in life I realized the count ultimately was going to be based on his choices. It wasn't easy but my imaginary scorecard seemed to be coming more and more useless everyday. As I felt the pain I gradually began to withdraw. I was hurt by his decision not to complete high school. I literally had to curse him out to go and get his GED one morning. He got up and went and took it and passed. He had the aptitude but there were so many excuses. I brought him five cars. I didn't want him to end up a statistic. There is nothing I wouldn't have done for him to see him become successful. He had a totally different vision of success in mind. He was bound and determined in obtaining his success the way he felt he should go. I must say he had some encouragement from the peanut gallery (low life bums and scums who didn't mean him any good). I'm not seeking vengeance so I won't mention their names here. They know who they are. I've never held my tongue with them.
Well in retrospect the day my son asked me if I'm crazy is the same day I think it hit him like a thousand midnight he was finally going to have to stand on his own two feet. He must have realized it because that day he had shared with me he had to fire his lawyer in court and represent himself or he would gotten more time. I wasn't there. The whole criminal justice process was just too much for me to bare. I went to his initial court date and I lasted through that. I couldn't take no more.
This is the child whom at the age he was at the time I had spent his whole life looking forward to the day when he would be graduating from somewhere, anywhere with highest honors. I read to him from the womb. I was there at his beck and call. Every field trip he went on in primary school I was there right by his side. I was there when he got up to get ready for school each morning. I was there when he would kneel down on his knees and pray each night. I was the one who brought him his first pair of Stride-Rite shoes. I was the one who brought him his first book. I was the one who brought him the first set of cards for his baseball card collection and basketball card collection. I was the one who brought him his first Sunday suit to wear to Church. I was the one who threw him party after party every year on his birthday. I was the one who brought him his first video gaming system. I was the one who brought him his first video game. I was the one who brought him his first television. I was the one who brought him his first computer. I was the one who brought him his first, second, third, fourth, and fifth vehicle. I was the one who fed him, I was the one who clothed him, I was the one who kept a roof over his head. He was the one everyone deemed as my favorite child.
Whenever someone wanted me to do something to which I may say no they would always send him to ask me. I will admit there was always something special in the way he said "Ma" which made my heart melt. It just always seemed the words came with a whole lot more love and affection. He very rarely said or asked for anything. He definitely wasn't a whiner. Thank goodness none of my children were whiners.
Well when it got to the point of his seeming lack of ambition I put him out my house (with a thirty day notice of course). I was frustrated about the people he chose to be a part of his life. I wanted his friends to be Rhodes Scholars and not road scholars. Street bums who think they had all the answers to life and their doom and gloom should be the plight of everyone else.
I always considered my son to be an intelligent individual. He was an excellent musician. I had always wanted him to pursue his music and do positive things with his life. It seemed the forces working against me won out. They were there for him when he got home from school. They were there in his ear telling him he didn't want to work as hard as his mother always did to have nothing. When I would ask him what was wrong with his eyes he would tell me it was his allergies. Now when I look back at some of the photos of him over the years, I can see where his addiction began. At first I always thought it was the camera taking a bad pose.
Lord knows my son being another statistic in the war on drugs hurt me to my heart. A heart pain of massive proportions not capable of being measured because my heart hurt to bad for me to raise my hand to indicate the level of pain. I was sickened to a point of unbelief. It caused nausea, it caused headaches, it caused body aches, it caused back pains, it caused mood swings, it caused withdrawal, it caused me to be bed ridden, it caused helplessness, it caused hopelessness, it caused fatigue, it caused loss of speech (my throat hurt too bad from crying to talk), it caused blurred vision from the tears, it caused skin rashes from the stress, it caused hair loss from the worrying. When I did get sick for real several people realized I didn't seek help because I was wanting the towel to be thrown in. Then that same month my father died and my son was at the funeral and later that same month my son began his incarceration. As far as business successes I was riding high. I had worked so hard I got top listing, top sales, top closed, top agent overall for the quarter based on production. My personal failures were riding an all time low. I had a man in my life for the season and wasn't looking for a long term relationship just someone to console me as my world was falling apart.
My children were my world. I had dedicated critical time, energy, and resources into them not becoming statistics but being more successful than I could ever had imagined. I was their mentor (so I thought), I was their motivator, I was the one guiding them. I was the one who loved them. I was the one who cared. I was the one they could come to. I was the one who spent hours upon hours teaching them to read, teaching them test taking skills, teaching them to write, teaching them to be articulate, taking them to Church, teaching them life skill in hopes they would be well rounded upstanding citizens.
The sand just got too hot for me and I took my feet out of the sand. I can surely say the Lord has been carrying me all this time. I am truly thankful he didn't give up on me. I have been self-employed since 2006. I just needed more solitude in my life to deal with all that was going on personally. Even when working I was fortunate to have gone from a temporary to a very challenging management position in the midst of all my personal turmoil.
He carried me through my sickness, he carried me through my pain. Hitting rock bottom is an eye opener to the fact that the sand is definitely too hot to lay around in. I'm walking in the sand again now. The season of my life has changed and the walk is a lot cooler.
I am thankful for the eye opening experiences I have encountered over the last month. And most importantly over the last week. I'm reaching out more to learn more about what it means to be incarcerated. What happens after incarceration. I could choose to wallow in self-pity. But I rather choose to stand on my own two feet. Be accounted for and make a difference.
When I got home from being hospitalized in June 2008 when everything else was happening, I didn't know why God chose to let me keep living, The only thing I could remember prior to being put under sedation was my son standing at the hospital bed with tears in his eyes and I could see the pain on his face. Even though it was pain ridden I felt the aura of his prayer over me.
When I got home from the hospital and laying in my bed I prayed God would let me see his purpose for letting me survive. Now I see from recent enlightening experiences life is not just about survival it is about thriving to make a difference in the lives of others. Don't limit myself to my children being my world but to expand my horizons to reach out to others. Our God is a selfless God and to be more Christ like there is a need to be more selfless.
The admonition of my grandmother any time she saw any sign of weakness in me was to iterate "stand on your own two feet, put all your faith in no man" is hitting real close to home.
Little did he know I started counting the day he was born. I counted on him being successful. I counted on him being educated. I counted on him being a good strong man. I counted on him being a man of character. I counted on him being a man of promise. I could go on at least 585 ways I was not only counting but counting on him.
Later in life I realized the count ultimately was going to be based on his choices. It wasn't easy but my imaginary scorecard seemed to be coming more and more useless everyday. As I felt the pain I gradually began to withdraw. I was hurt by his decision not to complete high school. I literally had to curse him out to go and get his GED one morning. He got up and went and took it and passed. He had the aptitude but there were so many excuses. I brought him five cars. I didn't want him to end up a statistic. There is nothing I wouldn't have done for him to see him become successful. He had a totally different vision of success in mind. He was bound and determined in obtaining his success the way he felt he should go. I must say he had some encouragement from the peanut gallery (low life bums and scums who didn't mean him any good). I'm not seeking vengeance so I won't mention their names here. They know who they are. I've never held my tongue with them.
Well in retrospect the day my son asked me if I'm crazy is the same day I think it hit him like a thousand midnight he was finally going to have to stand on his own two feet. He must have realized it because that day he had shared with me he had to fire his lawyer in court and represent himself or he would gotten more time. I wasn't there. The whole criminal justice process was just too much for me to bare. I went to his initial court date and I lasted through that. I couldn't take no more.
Whenever someone wanted me to do something to which I may say no they would always send him to ask me. I will admit there was always something special in the way he said "Ma" which made my heart melt. It just always seemed the words came with a whole lot more love and affection. He very rarely said or asked for anything. He definitely wasn't a whiner. Thank goodness none of my children were whiners.
Well when it got to the point of his seeming lack of ambition I put him out my house (with a thirty day notice of course). I was frustrated about the people he chose to be a part of his life. I wanted his friends to be Rhodes Scholars and not road scholars. Street bums who think they had all the answers to life and their doom and gloom should be the plight of everyone else.
I always considered my son to be an intelligent individual. He was an excellent musician. I had always wanted him to pursue his music and do positive things with his life. It seemed the forces working against me won out. They were there for him when he got home from school. They were there in his ear telling him he didn't want to work as hard as his mother always did to have nothing. When I would ask him what was wrong with his eyes he would tell me it was his allergies. Now when I look back at some of the photos of him over the years, I can see where his addiction began. At first I always thought it was the camera taking a bad pose.
Lord knows my son being another statistic in the war on drugs hurt me to my heart. A heart pain of massive proportions not capable of being measured because my heart hurt to bad for me to raise my hand to indicate the level of pain. I was sickened to a point of unbelief. It caused nausea, it caused headaches, it caused body aches, it caused back pains, it caused mood swings, it caused withdrawal, it caused me to be bed ridden, it caused helplessness, it caused hopelessness, it caused fatigue, it caused loss of speech (my throat hurt too bad from crying to talk), it caused blurred vision from the tears, it caused skin rashes from the stress, it caused hair loss from the worrying. When I did get sick for real several people realized I didn't seek help because I was wanting the towel to be thrown in. Then that same month my father died and my son was at the funeral and later that same month my son began his incarceration. As far as business successes I was riding high. I had worked so hard I got top listing, top sales, top closed, top agent overall for the quarter based on production. My personal failures were riding an all time low. I had a man in my life for the season and wasn't looking for a long term relationship just someone to console me as my world was falling apart.
My children were my world. I had dedicated critical time, energy, and resources into them not becoming statistics but being more successful than I could ever had imagined. I was their mentor (so I thought), I was their motivator, I was the one guiding them. I was the one who loved them. I was the one who cared. I was the one they could come to. I was the one who spent hours upon hours teaching them to read, teaching them test taking skills, teaching them to write, teaching them to be articulate, taking them to Church, teaching them life skill in hopes they would be well rounded upstanding citizens.
The sand just got too hot for me and I took my feet out of the sand. I can surely say the Lord has been carrying me all this time. I am truly thankful he didn't give up on me. I have been self-employed since 2006. I just needed more solitude in my life to deal with all that was going on personally. Even when working I was fortunate to have gone from a temporary to a very challenging management position in the midst of all my personal turmoil.
He carried me through my sickness, he carried me through my pain. Hitting rock bottom is an eye opener to the fact that the sand is definitely too hot to lay around in. I'm walking in the sand again now. The season of my life has changed and the walk is a lot cooler.
I am thankful for the eye opening experiences I have encountered over the last month. And most importantly over the last week. I'm reaching out more to learn more about what it means to be incarcerated. What happens after incarceration. I could choose to wallow in self-pity. But I rather choose to stand on my own two feet. Be accounted for and make a difference.
When I got home from being hospitalized in June 2008 when everything else was happening, I didn't know why God chose to let me keep living, The only thing I could remember prior to being put under sedation was my son standing at the hospital bed with tears in his eyes and I could see the pain on his face. Even though it was pain ridden I felt the aura of his prayer over me.
When I got home from the hospital and laying in my bed I prayed God would let me see his purpose for letting me survive. Now I see from recent enlightening experiences life is not just about survival it is about thriving to make a difference in the lives of others. Don't limit myself to my children being my world but to expand my horizons to reach out to others. Our God is a selfless God and to be more Christ like there is a need to be more selfless.
The admonition of my grandmother any time she saw any sign of weakness in me was to iterate "stand on your own two feet, put all your faith in no man" is hitting real close to home.
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