We fought.
I cried.
You cried.
My son, I am so afraid of failing you.
Even while I know that you must fail or succeed on your own.
I know, too, that while you want what an adult wants, you haven't the tools to get there, not alone anyway.
Together we have them, though, you and I. Along with those who love us the most, we will survive.
You will thrive.
The nightmares will stop.
For both of us.
In time.
The Crew
Do you know how wonderful it is to have all of your children together for the holidays?
This is my crew. My biological children and my step children, together, together for the first time in so long that I can't remember the date, the year, the occasion.
We smiled; we laughed; we loved.
Robert is home. It continues to fill me with a roller coaster of emotions, but he is home, and that is good.
May your new year bring you much joy and happiness.
~~ Tammy
Today I am thankful that .....
although the other girls weren't able to join us, Robert was able to attend his oldest sister's graduation ceremony with his brothers,
that my oldest grandson, seen here wearing his mom's graduation cap, loves to read and can finish a book as thick as the Harry Potter book tucked under his arm in less than a week,
and that Robert is beginning to smile more and zone less (though there is still a lot of the latter).
Today, what are you thankful for?
On Sunday morning our local newscaster spoke of a double shooting in the park that is only blocks from our home.
Our home.
Our children play basketball in this park.
We swim in the pool.
The boys pass it when they walk home from school.
Frightened?
Yes.
Until we learned that the woman who made the frantic 9-1-1 call to tell the police dispatcher that she and her husband had been shot was actually (allegedly) one of three who plotted the murder of her husband.
The other two?
Her 18-year-old boyfriend, a young man that she had moved into her home while her husband was fighting in the middle east, and his friend.
Her husband had only been home three days ................
Paul Berkley had a website. It is being left open for comments.
His daughter also has a website. The paper says that she is blogging her way through the grief, but it appears as if she is doing so privately (as is expected), but you can leave comments.
What happens now will determine so much, and that scares me. How much of my fear do I share? Some, I know. I have to if I want him to let me in. But how much is too much?
It's hard to listen to his words, to watch his eyes, to see his calculated moves, without flinching, without demanding to know what he is thinking, but I know it is important to give him space, to listen when he talks and to back away when he doesn't.
It is important to him, to our family, to his future.
In a crowded restaurant, I watch his eyes glaze over. He leaves us. I don't know where he goes, but I suspect it is that dark place where light is repelled without ever being noticed. He isn't with us in those moments, though I can tell he wants to be, wants desperately to be, to forget, to not feel whatever he is feeling.
He tells me in bits and pieces what is happening -- the strength of mind that it takes to not turn, poised for a fight, when someone brushes against his arm -- the actual pain that he feels when the sounds and sights overwhelm his senses -- the fear he is feeling when he looks over his shoulder to make sure a guard is not pointing a gun to his back.
He tells me, and I listen. He tells me, and I ask questions. He tells me, and I force myself to breathe. In and out. In and out.
He tells me, and I write.
I write, and I hope, and I try desperately to believe.
Is it ever really over?
They say its over when you walk through the gates, but it isn't.
Robert got into the backseat of my car at 7:30 A.M. on Friday. At 12:30 P.M., we were in Virginia Beach, VA. waiting to speak to his probation officer.
At 1:00, we had a travel permit that indicated that he had until noon on Monday to report to the probation officer in North Carolina.
The DMV was right around the corner, so that was our next stop. He owed $575.00 in fines for an accident that took place while he was locked up. A "friend" took his car keys and totaled his car (and the car of someone else). The friend had no insurance, and neither did Robert. By law, Robert is responsible. His options? Pay the fines or petition to have the case re-opened --
-- at the cost of $375.00 (plus any additional court and attorney fees incurred).
We paid the fines. We also got a list of the other items that must be handled before he can get his license reinstated (restitution payments, classes, and tests).
Before noon on Monday we were waiting for the person listed on his transfer papers to talk to us. She did --
-- just long enough to sign-off in the computer that she had seen Robert in NC. Then she sent us to another building to the person assigned as his new probation officer.
Another filthy, stinky, tiny waiting room later, we met the man who will ultimately decide how long Robert must continue to report his every move. He seemed nice enough but, of course, he didn't have what he needed to process Robert's information (as Virginia had not sent it forward). We will see him again after the holidays.
I had originally decided to post one more entry to wrap-up this blog called "My Son The Convict," but it looks like I have a lot more story to tell, and so I shall stay...
At least for now.
Over a 48 hour period ...
The Stafford Diversion Center number showed up on our caller ID. Since we had already had our "last" call, we were worried that something had happened.
It had.
The papers that Robert had, the ones that stated that he could be transferred to North Carolina? Robert said they told him that that just meant that the courts had given approval for the transfer, not that the states had approved the transfer.
WHAT?
Four days before his release?
A phone call to the Diversion Center.
"Yes," Ms. Hicks informed me. "Robert is telling the truth. We are trying to get in touch with the parole officer in Virginia. He isn't due in until noon."
Now, those of you who have been with me for the last 18 months know how often the system has blown it when it comes to transfers and paperwork, so you know how freaked out I was at this point. "Exactly what does this mean?" I asked.
"Worse case scenario," she said, "Robert has to stay in Virginia until the paperwork is completed and the transfer is okayed by the state of North Carolina."
Waiting, waiting, waiting for a return call from Ms. Hicks.
Couldn't wait any longer.
Called Virginia Beach and found out that there is something called a travel permit.
"Okay. How do we get one of those?" I asked.
"Robert will have to contact his parole officer in person before 4:00 on Friday. IF he is granted the permit, he will have a return date."
The good news in all of this is that Robert would have no choice in whether or not we picked him up on Friday morning. The bad news, the news that had my heart racing to my feet, is that this could put him in Virginia Beach, VA for days.
Not good.
Finally, a return call from Ms. Hicks.
"Good news," she said. "All of the paper work has been completed. Robert will be released to you at 7:00 AM on Friday. You need to take him directly to Virginia Beach to sign the state-to-state agreement."
How wonderful is that? Not only is he coming home, he HAS TO come with us on Friday morning...
TWO DAYS AND A WAKE-UP!
I'm not lying
It only took him about 30 seconds to realize that mom was not happy with him. Of course, he should have known that before the phone call ...
"What's wrong?" he asked. 
"Other than being disappointed in your decision and with the knowledge that you lied to me? Nothing."
"I didn't lie."
"Your boss didn't call me."
"I called you on three-way."
"Yeah, son, through Red, not through your boss."
"I only decided to stay in Fredericksburg for an additional day because you are afraid I will get hurt in Virginia Beach if certain people know I'm there."
This was true of course, but she knew that this was not a part of his reasoning at all, at least not until he needed it to be.
He is good at turning things around. He always has been.
"Whatever, son. We will be at the Barnes and Noble on Virginia Beach Blvd. until 2:00 on Saturday. If you want to come home with us, be there."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Just what I said."
"You mean you would leave me if I was late?"
"You have my cell phone number, Robert. If you are 5 or 10 minutes away, we might wait, but much more than that and Red can just bring you all the way."
"I don't understand why you are mad."
"I know."
"I won't be doing anything. I won't spend any of my money, and I won't drink or smoke."
"What are you gonna wear to the party?"
"Red is gonna take me to get an outfit."
"I thought you weren't going to spend any money. You need every penny you have to pay off fines and to file for a paternity test."
"I know. Just enough for clothes."
"What are you gonna wear on your feet?"
"Well, I'll have to get a pair of shoes, too. But that's it."
A bit further into the conversation, she learns that her son will also be going to the airport with Red's mom. It seems Red will be flying in on Friday before the party.
"I thought I would surprise her and step out from behind her mom with a dozen roses," he.
"Who's paying for the roses?"
"I am...."
and then he added, "Mommm, they're only $10.00."
"Whatever, son..."
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