I’ll never forget that day. The room was small and sterile. Voices were muffled. The atmosphere was tense and filled with apprehension. When it was my turn to speak, I hardly recognized the strained and throaty voice that emerged from my lips as I pleaded for my son’s life. My son stood and humbly spoke in his behalf. The detective and arresting officer requested rehabilitation for his wrongdoing and for him not to go to prison. The judge looked through me and saw only the D.A. who insisted on Measure 11. The gavel came down, and my handsome, intelligent and gifted 20 year old son was led quietly away. He bravely held his head up and did not look back. I watched my son slowly walk away in shackles and handcuffs. My son, who was to continue in college, and to accomplish so much in life. A seventy month sentence! I was frozen. The horror and terror I felt that day still lives in me until the day he is released. It was the worst day of my life.
As I left the courtroom, I was surrounded by family and friends who were shocked and bewildered by the outcome. I went home defeated and deflated. My children have always been my life. There was nothing more I could do. I could not protect my son. I felt so helpless. For the first time in my life, my spirit of hope, my optimism–atrophied, and I went to bed. I became ill with strep throat, lost my job, lost weight, and lost my course. I was sinking. After several months, it was my beautiful daughter that pulled me out of the depths of my grief. Her dark flashing eyes and angry voice questioned,” What about me? I miss my brother too!” I realized that my daughter would not have that big brother to lead her through her teenage years, and I was not the only one that was devastated. Being a single parent, I realized, it was time to get out of bed, and get back in the ring.
So I did. I went back to college to finish my degree. It was two hard strenuous years, but I achieved my Master’s Degree in Teaching. I had just previously accomplished my Bachelor’s Degree a year before, but had not thought it financially possible to go further in my education. It was truly a diploma acquired “against all odds,” and I nearly cried out loud when I accepted it.
It was not an easy accomplishment. There were so many times I did not know how I was going to pay for gasoline to get to class, pay the mortgage, utilities, or food. I also had to send money to my son for his necessities and to be able to call home. I had to pay lawyer bills too. I was overwhelmed. I was living through a parent’s worst nightmare, and still am. I pray and I pray. There have been so many sleepless nights. I worry for his safety, health, and spiritual and mental well-being. I know he is in a dangerous place with monstrous criminals. My son had led a sheltered life. So, I still pray nightly for some big, muscular guardian angels to be by his side.
Another difficult situation that I faced was the stigma attached to having a son in prison. I am proud of my son for his humility and what he has accomplished while incarcerated, but not proud of his crime. During the course of being in prison, my son has fully realized his errors in judgment, developed his writing talents, and has escalated in his artistic abilities. He is a portrait artist, and his talent truly amazes me and others. I am always impressed by his sense of humor and his lack of bitterness. He cheers up everyone that he comes in contact with. He has developed mentally, physically, and spiritually. But, being a private person, I have shared with only a few besides family, my grief and concern for my son. Part of that has been because of fear. I have been afraid of being judged and suffering a setback in career. I have so many responsibilities that I am accountable for. Also, because I was afraid of those condemning looks that told me I was lacking as a parent and had done something wrong.
Perhaps I have feared that the most. I love my kids and have sincerely tried my best to instill moral and ethical principles.
Today, I hope and wait. I pray every night and move one day closer to his release. I work with kids; I reach out, write, smile, and work. I encourage other parents that are struggling with children in trouble to look for support from family, friends, and church. Take your life on a daily basis, breathe in and out, and keep your own dreams alive. Our kids in trouble count on us to be strong, and we can do it.
Sunny Shaw
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