I got a call from my son yesterday. Once again he has been transferred to a different prison. He gave me some news that would be a blessing if it comes to fruition. I am 53 and if I live until the release date I will be 68. Considering health issues I am not sure that I will be alive. I bought my first house a little over a year ago. I was fine in a mobile home before that until a hail storm knocked 14 holes in the roof. So I thought the best thing that I could do would be to purchase a house that I can leave for him so he has a place to go. That is my worry every day. He has lost most of his teen and young adult years by ending up in prison. Something that he told me on the phone led me to believe that the amount of time might change. I sure hope that is true. I have trouble maintaining relationships with anyone because of where he is. I blame myself for a lot of the things that happened and not being stricter with him. I spent a lot of time mopping up the mess after things would happen but nothing compares to each day of fear in my heart knowing that someday he might not survive in the federal prison system. The prisons have always told me that I cannot have visitation with him. His calls have been very restricted and we get about 5 minutes a month on the phone now and that was not allowed until a couple of months ago. I can close my eyes and visualize him here and the hugs that would happen. I would be elated. I have punished myself mentally because I blame myself for a lot of it. My heart is very heavy with sorrow all the time. It would be a life saver for me if he could come home before I die or before I am 68 years old. I hope what I have posted here will give Jeremy some things to think about because I know his mother must be feeling the same way that I do. I want my son to know that but it is difficult to express in a five minute phone call. For the rest of my life I would spend every day appreciating him because he has been missed for so very long. If he never knows anything else in his lifetime he should know that he means more to me than anything or anyone.
I finished the transcription for your post. What's the soundtrack of my life? Tough question. I like almost all music, except a lot of the addictive noise pollution coming off the huge record labels. I also like to think of noises in my human habitat - not necessarily music - as part of that soundtrack.
Loved the Post. Its so true. A true measure of a mans success in live should not be how much he can afford to pay for his shoes but how much Joy he feels. I truly believe a person of very modest means can be richer in every sense of the word if his Joy comes from having the Lord in his life, not from the amount he can pay for his shoes. I believe the same can be said of ones surrounding, a man in prison who knows the Lord can know more real Happiness and Joy then the man who lives in a Mansion and only finds his happiness chasing the almighty dollor. Keep the posts coming.
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I will venture that the story is an allegory for drug use/addiction/overdose? Let me know if I am wrong.
Keep up the writing!