I was recently given my first unfinished manuscript to read from a potential first-time author, who happens to be an inmate in prison. The last chapter remains unwritten. This inmate possesses the same first name as I. The author was dealt an awful, horrible, and unthinkable hand at birth. Maybe one that he may never be able to overcome. He was born addicted to heroin thanks to his addicted mother. He was abused as a toddler and eventually given up for adoption to a loving couple at the age of three. Despite the unconditional love and support of a safe home, the damage had been done. The damage produced a turbulent childhood of visits to many well-meaning experts, medical facilities and eventually to addiction and incarceration. This hurt person, has hurt many people during his fifty years. His adopted parents are at the front of this line.
His story unfortunately is played out repeatedly by addicts who choose not to step away from surrounding themselves with enablers (Friends, the Old Neighborhood Cellmates, etc..). His adoptive parents, with their continued unconditional love, gave him the opportunity to change this script. Remarkable! He chose, or was not capable of choosing, to accept their remarkable gift of unconditional love. I have learned in my life you can only help people who want to help themselves – no matter how much we want to help or how much we love. Ultimately, eventually, it is up to the person and the choices they make. It takes two.
In reading the self-insightful and apparently honest manuscript I found myself getting sucked in and rooting for my namesake. I would then shake my head and have my heart broken by his continuous bad choices which included taking and dealing drugs, assault and bank robbery. His prose becomes remarkedly self-aware while reflecting in prison. It appears he is headed on a positive journey of a life that the unconditional love provided. He then continues to make head scratching self-destructive choices with each chance at freedom, that make you question if he is trying to con himself and/or his readers – having learned nothing. I understand and empathize that “any and all trust… was broken” with his now seventy-year-old parents. How could it not be? In reading the manuscript, at the end I found myself thinking … “I can’t hear what you are saying (writing) because your actions are speaking too loud.” Until his actions change, one day at a time, for good, sober & clean, all anyone can be asked to do is pray for him. The parents have done their job as loving parents. More than anyone could ever expect.
As the author awaits his release next year after spending most of his life behind bars, he looks out of his small window within his cell each night at 8:30. He says a prayer to find his way. To find his freedom. The church going mother employed a number of her congregation to join with him at 8:30, from afar. From their windows wherever they are. The author’s birthday is March 18th. I have placed in my calendar on March 18th, 2023, at 8:30 p.m. an appointment to find a window to look out of, from wherever I may be, and say a prayer for her son. My payer will be for him to write his final chapter of his book with hope of his “last prison term,” becoming a reality. I’ll pray that he finds a job, a purpose, a goal, and a productive life outside of prison walls. I’ll pray he turns his back on the negative influences, enablers and past demons that will continue to call him. Would you like to join me @ 8:30 next March? My guess is this would be a first for you?