May 13, 2006

• MAY 11th

  
  

  
  

  On May 11, 2004, you were hanging with the wrong crowd, avoiding your family, being evasive when we spoke.

  
  

  On May 11, 2004, I didn't know how much trouble you were already in, didn't know that we would be visiting you in prison, but I sensed it, felt it, knew as only a parent can know.

  
  

  On May 11, 2005, we were a year into your sentence, and I was less than hopeful. My blogs spoke of seeing you in new settings, settings that were all hard, and cold, and dead, settings that your grandmother refused to be a part of, settings that brought only the slightest bits of comfort to families torn apart.

  
  

  But this year, this year on May 11th, you were home, with us, celebrating the 16th birthday of your little brother. And I watched, every move, every smile, and I listened to every word, every laugh.

  
  

  And, as thankful as I was, I also remembered what it is still like for so many other moms, so many other sisters and brothers, so many other grandmas, and I felt sorrow in my joy and pain in my ecstasy.

  
  

  For each of them, for a moment, when I was alone, I cried and remembered and hoped that each of them would someday know the joy of watching their baby boy turn 16 with his big brother by his side.

  • 9:28 am
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