I remember…..my son. When I came to prison 15 years ago I lost my parental rights to my son. His father refused me any type of contact. In the 15 years I’ve been down I have never heard his voice, seen a picture of him, received a letter, had a phone call. I did my best to forget what I lost because the pain of remembering was too much for me.
Than about three weeks ago I got a letter in the mail from my son. It was 10 days before his 25th birthday. It was delivered by a SIS agent who told me I couldn’t answer it yet, that I had to wait. For several days I waited, the memories came crashing back of my little boy. I didn’t know him as a young man, but I knew him as my little boy.
I remembered the time he caught his first fish. It was too small and it should have been thrown back in, but he was in tears…I kept it and had it taxidermied with the words “My First Fish”. I remembered his first fight in school at age 9…yes 9 years old. He told me he was being picked on and I told him he needed to stand up to them or it would continue. He forgot to tell me it was a girl who was picking on him….I had to tell him afterwards boys and men don’t hit girls or women no matter what…My last memory of him was us laying up on my bed watching Star Wars…we fell asleep to it. Two days later I was in jail awaiting arraignment. Now 15 years later, here I sit with my memories waiting for damn approval to contact him.
The day before his birthday I am at work and the SIS Lieutenant comes to my job. He says “So you want to talk to your son?” I say “yes”. “We have no issues, legal has given you the go ahead.” I cry….the memories come crashing back…all I want to do is find a phone. I have 3 hours before I get off work. I want to say “Happy Birthday.” I want to say “I love you.”
I remember….my son.
— Tammy H.