Dec 08 2009
A Different Kind of Loss
Friday was a cold rainy day. With much trepidation I packed up the car and drove out of my driveway at 1240 pm. It took an hour to drive to Springhill to Carrie and Tim’s house. I transferred my bag to Carrie’s car and in 10 minutes we were on our way. Following the directions of the GPS I drove north to US98.
The next 4 ½ hours were miserable. It rained the entire trip but the roads were good and there was little traffic. Shortly after 6 pm we pulled into the Airport Motel in Blountstown, FL. The motel was isolated and there were only 2 other cars in the parking lot. The owner was nice, the room was very small but immaculately clean. The rain continued and due to fear of the unknown we got very little sleep. I had pushed a chair over in front of the door.
The temperature outside was 43 degrees. When the alarm went off at 530 am we were both already awake. We were on the road again in 30 minutes. The trusty GPS took us directly down SR71 to Stone Mill Creek Road and Gulf Correctional Institution Annex. Visitors were allowed in from 8 am to 2 pm. There were 2 other women in line outside the prison. We stood in 38 degree weather waiting for the guards to come out and process us through.
At 745 the guards came out and set up a table to sign in. They called 4 visitors at a time. Since it was Carrie and my first visit we had paperwork to fill out. Then the guard gave our driver’s license to the people on the other side of the window to check us out. When that was done we were given a little yellow card with a PIN number on it and told to write our inmate’s name and number on the back and get the card laminated. We had our photos taken, hands scanned three times and then we were patted down. All we were allowed to carry in was a see through envelope with our driver’s license, up to $50 and one car key. I was allowed to take my inhalor in. We were led through four different doors that had to buzzed open and clanged shut behind. Then into a large room with long tables with signs telling where we could sit and where the inmates had to sit. More buzzing and clanging.
We chose a table by the window where I dumped my wrap, hat and see through purse. I walked over to the window to look and saw barb wire surrounding the place and several building that were later identified as the dorms. There was a raised platform at the front of the room where the inmates came in after being strip searched. On the platform were 4 prison guards. Next to them was a table with puzzles and decks of cards.
Two prisoners came into the room. My son was one of them. He signed in, turned and spotted Carrie at the table. As he walked toward her I watched his face crumbled into pain and then tears. He embraced her with one of his wonderful warm hugs. They clung to each other crying. He tried to control his tears but they kept coming as he walked over and gave me a huge hug. It was difficult to let go of him but I knew that it was Carrie he needed and not me. He turned back to her with another hug and then we sat down at the table. Carrie had bought him a cup of coffee and a honey bun from the canteen window in the room. He was delighted with the honey bun and quickly devoured it. He said he hadn’t had one since Monday. Apparently they are a valuable commodity and usually sell out the day they come in.
As time passed I understood why we wanted to get there early. Due to the length of time to process each visitor, some of the people behind us outside didn’t get in until 930-10 am. That takes away from the visiting time. After some catching up we got a puzzle and put it together in less than 2 hours. About every hour or so the guards would unlock the door to the yard outside the room and at least half of the room cleared out to take a smoke break. It was too cold for us so we continued to talk at the table. We kept feeding Tim food from the canteen. Actually it wasn’t bad, all pre-packaged but tasty. There were two microwave ovens in the room, a water fountain and restrooms. The restrooms were locked. Every time we had to go, a guard unlocked the door and one person at a time was allowed to go. We learned to watch and when one person went in, others lined up outside the door and just catch it as each came out.
If the inmates had to go they had to go back to their dorm, which involved a strip search coming and going. Tim held it the whole 6 hours. Around 11 am they called for a head count and the guys had to line up along the wall to be counted.
I sat in the corner and watched my son and the other inmates. Some of them looked like they were teenagers. Others were older. Three of them had prison tattoos all over their exposed skin; arms, neck, some even on their face. I wondered why they would want all that crappy stuff permanently embossed on their bodies. More white guys than black had visitors.
The day went well and no incidents occurred. There were lots of children, more than I expected, and it was touching to see these big tough men carrying around tiny babies and toddlers. I was surprised to see that most of the men did not look as though they belonged in prison.
Too quickly it was 155 pm and the guards told the men to say their goodbyes and line up to sign out. Again I got a Tim hug and Carrie got a prolonged embrace and a kiss. We lined up on one side of the room and the inmates on the other side. They were taken out 3 at a time to be stripped searched again and returned to their respective dorms. As each inmate left the room, his visitors were led out the opposite door. We were held in a small hallway until the previous group left then our photos were matched to another hand scan and we walked out the doors amid buzzers and clangs.
The trip home took 5 hours to Springhill. I transferred my bag back to my car. I was alone again and didn’t know what to feel. Quiet tears rolled down my cheek as I drove. I was relieved to see that Tim was healthy and had not lost his sense of humor. I was devastated to see how the guards dehumanized the men. It felt wonderful to be hugged again by my son. I hated having him separated from his family. I kept hearing the buzzers and clangs. I’ll never forget the look on his face when he saw Carrie. I replayed the visit over and over in my mind.
I arrived home at 930 pm and called Sandy. I needed to have Mystic back with me. She understands my moods and is very protective of me. When Sandy walked in the door with my dog I finally lost control and sobbed in Sandy’s arms for about a half hour.
Will I go visit him again? Absolutely. Will it tear me apart to see him behind bars? No doubt. Will I live long enough to see him back home with his family? 9 years is a long time.
