My Visits

I go to visit my son in jail on Saturdays.  He’s been there 3 weeks I think.  Will be there at least another 2.  Possibly another 6.  This place is a dump.  Not all jails are.  I know this because when he was in jail last year it was at a pretty decent facility.  It kind of sucks that I know this.

Saturday I walk in with his friend, Tony, who wanted to visit my son with me.  I explain to Tony to get out his ID, leave other things in the car and I give the clerk my son’s name and our ID’s.  She sends up our group.  I have the timing down so I don’t have to wait in the small lobby with the other visitors.  It is really sad and uncomfortable.

We get on the elevator and the women we are with look nervous.  I can tell it’s their first visit because I used to look like that.  One of the women asks what are we supposed to do?  I explain the process to both of them and they look relieved.  Relieved that I answer.  Relieved that I seem normal.  Relieved that I’m not judging them for being there.  I understand that too.

The visit starts and my son shows up on the monitor.  He is so happy to see his friend.  Don’t get me wrong, he is glad I visit, but I always visit.  When someone else shows up he is ecstatic.  Last week the mother of his child and his daughter went with me.  He was so grateful.  (sorry, I can’t say baby mama, she is so much more than that)

When I say, my son, that’s what I mean.  He is clean now.  No more detox.  He is clear and he is the guy I know.  It is so refreshing to see him like this.  Each week he seems better.  How horrible is it that I don’t want him to leave right now?  Right now I know he is doing okay.  He is safe.  He is clean and bright eyed and oh speaking of eyes, he has awesome clear blue eyes and that is a fact that gets lost when he is using.  I saw them again on Saturday.

I can hear a woman talking to her inmate and she is crying hard and loud.  We continue to talk to my son about books and UFO’s (seriously) and just fun stuff.  We talk a little about the business end, what his attorney told him, how is his daughter, stuff like that, but mostly it was a light-hearted visit.  I didn’t leave with a heavy heart like I have in the past.  The woman at the end is a freaking mess.

We all get on the elevator again to leave and the woman is still crying.  I talk to her for a minute.  I’m not sure why her boyfriend is in jail and it’s none of my business.  I found out her name is Lindsey and I add her to my prayer list.

I get a little – something – not angry – I guess upset, that none of my family members visit or talk to my son.  Not his siblings, not his dad.  I realize they had to set boundaries themselves and I am trying not to let this get to me, but I know he is going to need support in order to succeed.  I hope they come around.

So, here I am.  The veteran visitor.  Helping others with the process.  Comforting others.  I never do anything half way.  I drink, I become an alcoholic.  I run, I end up running marathons.  I visit jail, I become the room mom.  Go figure.