I've not been inside a prison except in the visitation room for five years ... almost every week .. driving 6 to 8 hours, to sit there for 6 hours, only to drive another 6 to 8 hours home. Sitting there not being able to touch, hold hands, kiss, or hug, except when I would first arrive, and when I left. I have seen literally 1000's of wives, girlfriends, mother's, father's, sister's, brother's, son's and daughter's go through the same emotions I went through. The same thoughts. I heard the stories, of men having their heads busted open with locks stuck in socks, the shanks made from sharpened tooth brushes, and plastic forks and knives. One prison even had a display case of all the shanks and other hand made weapons they collected. I've seen first hand the damage these have caused. I've seen men so over medicated just to stay sane enough to serve one day to the next. I've seen men who were permanently brain damaged from having their head beaten so badly, they almost died, one man was even at the visitation picking half eaten food out of the garbage can, that's how much of his mind he lost. I know of a man being pushed off the top of a building while he was working, he lived I think a week, then died. And I sat there hour after hour while my husband poured his heart out, sharing his fears of waking up in the middle of the night at every little sound, of nights he was afraid to even close his eyes. I’ve heard in graphic detail fights that broke out over something as simple as a card game. I could go on and on, and while no I can’t say that I ever actually was the one to experience it physically, when you are connected to someone, when you have given them your heart and soul and you have chosen to share your life with them, and what they must go through, you become a part of them, you feel and experience these things right along with them. While he’s laying awake at night cringing at ever little sound, trying to think of himself at home in a better place; you’re laying 400 miles away, wide awake, cringing at ever sound, thinking of everything that could possibly go wrong, of all the harm that could befall them. It’s amazing how strong your faith truly does become, because in the end, as a person on the outside, that is all you have, you have to have faith that they will make it through each night, and each day. You, the outside person become just as much a prisoner as the inmate himself. And no it’s not something you HAVE to do; you do it because you love them. I could say a lot more, but I won’t because most peoples views of a person who is charged of a crime, is that they are guilty because they were convicted. And that they deserve what ever they get. But as I have said before, and I will stand by what I say, not all are guilty.
