How do you prepare yourself to drop your loved one off at prison? How do you spend your last few days together? What do you say, or how can you offer them encouragement? I knew the emotions I was feeling, but I couldn’t imagine the emotions he was feeling.
In the days leading up to his departure he had called the facility to find out what he could take in with him. He believed he could take his own Bible and perhaps a few legal items. He was transferred to a woman who did not disclose her name. She sounded older in age, ragged, and disenfranchised with life. She told him he could not bring a bible, they had bibles there for them. There were several ministry programs he would be able to participate in as well. If he had a COVID vaccine card he would need to bring that. If he had not been vaccinated she told him he would have to quarantine for 5, 8, or 14 days. She didn’t know how long the quarantine was and didn’t make the effort to find out. He could also bring in a piece of paper with addresses and phone numbers on it. That was it. Nothing else.
Her answers were short, direct curt. She inquired about what time he would be arriving, and he shared that he was court ordered to be there by 1 pm. Her response was that it was better to come earlier than later. What did that mean? The rest of the conversation went like this:
Travis: What happens if I’m not there early enough?
Staff: If you come too late and there is no one present to do your intake, you spend the night in the hole.
Travis: What time do you suggest I arrive?
Staff: No later than noon.
Travis: What is the hole?
Staff: You’ll find out when you get here.
Oh boy. I had instant flashbacks to power tripping coworkers I dealt with in the prison who failed to offer much respect or kindness to the inmates for no real reason at all. I could not bite my tongue. The call was on speaker, and I offered the answer to his question: the hole is solitary confinement.
It’s a one person cell in segregation where inmates who have misconduct proceedings pending are held. You do not leave your cell to eat and you get very limited time outside (on “the yard”), usually just one hour a day. You are not free to move about the facility at all. This didn’t make a lot of sense to me if he would have to quarantine with not having the COVID vaccine, but I brushed logic aside and hoped the realization for this woman of having been on speaker rather than a 1 on 1 call with an incoming inmate would give her pause the next time she was having a similar conversation. We prayed for her. She must treat herself awfully if this is how she treats others. Hopefully this would be the only encounter Travis would have with staff of this nature. (And so far he reports his encounters with staff to be positive.)
We spent the last weekend going through various things which would need to be taken care of while Travis is away. Repairs needed, financial obligations to take care of, discussions around legal options and preferences. Travis had to place so much trust in me, and I knew he never ever expected to have to walk away from these aspects of his life.
It was surreal. It also would be easier in some ways if we had the power of attorney we had requested Travis’s lawyer to complete.
We did enjoy our two favorite and simple ways to spend time together: a coffee date and frozen yogurt date. One blessing I had was that I never thought this is the last time I will…until he returns. Our mind can truly make or break the precious pleasure of the present moment, and thankfully my mind was showing up for the here and now to indulge in these beautiful tender moments together.
Our final night together at the house we fell asleep holding hands. A symbol of unity, solidarity, support, and reconciliation. Somehow this symbolism did not feel by chance. After all we’d been through and the many doubts, questions, and challenges we’d faced throughout this journey we had reconciled all aspects of our relationship, even the ones we had struggled with prior to this situation, uniting our lives while standing in unconditional support of one another.
Neither of us got much sleep and the morning was emotionally turbulent. I would return home to live alone. He wouldn’t return home for a year or more depending on good time and the First Step Act. Some situations aren’t made for words, and this was one of them.
After a long drive to Rochester, MN, we met Travis’s mom and sister who flew in to support him and see him off. This time together was sacred. And as the moments slipped by and the clock showed it was time for him to walk through those doors, we somehow were ready. I’ve likened it to a pregnancy. Every woman I’ve known who has reached nine months pregnant is ready for the next chapter, for the painful birthing process, for meeting their child, for the sleepless nights to come, for the worry over the child’s health, and every other aspect that comes with the unknown of a new journey. We felt this same necessity to move into the next chapter regardless of the challenges or discomforts it would bring.
We walked into Rochester FMC. This is the same area where visitors are processed during the visitation hours. The staff greeted Travis, and when Travis shared he was a self-surrender, the staff member called someone up to the sallyport. It took what seemed like 10 seconds for the staff member to join us. He asked Travis if he had anything in his pockets, and directed him to give everything to me: his wallet, cell phone, his wedding band, and two pennies. Travis was wearing a jacket that he often wears as a shirt. He was directed to take that off, and say his goodbyes. One final hug and kiss. The final release of him to this system.
He walked through the metal detector, and the staff member counted the cash Travis took in with him to have placed on his books. Money in prison is a game changer in your comfort level. I’ll share more about that in the future. Then he walked to the main sallyport door to enter the prison, staff pushed the controls to unlock the mechanism. The locking mechanism and doors are loud and definitive. A sound that would likely be shocking to any not familiar. My past prison experience alleviated any element of surprise as the locking mechanism released and the large, heavy, steel door slid to the side. As the door opened, I turned and walked out of the facility. I did not know when I would see him again, when I’d be able to visit, or how soon he would get to leave quarantine to even have a conversation with him. But I was not watching him enter the facility. Instead in my mind I envisioned greeting him on his release date and moving forward in life together, one family, united.
I knew a lot about what he was entering, and for once in my life knowledge didn’t feel so much like power. I knew the hierarchy and the economy he was entering; the bartering system of the inmates and how it’s used for control. I knew of the contraband, the games, the methods inmates used to hurt one another such as a lock in a sock. I knew of the strip searches, the shakedowns (cell searches), the drugs, kites, and the slop (food). He was now a fish-a new inmate, and my deepest hope was he would find a couple road dogs-close friends and trusted allies.
I had written the names and addresses for Travis on a piece of paper for him to take in with him. At the top I selected one bible verse I hoped would be his mantra and offer him encouragement during his incarceration: 2 Timothy 1:7 “For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.
Perhaps this verse had actually been for both of us. Remember the mind can make or break the peace you have in each present moment. I knew I would have to remain resolute and steadfast in trusting Travis’s keen intuition and discernment to stay above the fray. I was deeply comforted by knowing living above the fray was his innate nature.
We returned to the house where we were staying. Every fiber of my being wanted to leave Rochester immediately, but the drive was too long, and I had to kick off my new radio show. Then I recognized this text book fight or flight response for what it was: a trauma response. I took our dog, Kivah, for a walk, phoned a friend and shed a few tears, and then processed the trauma. On the most heart wrenching day I was ready to show up on an international platform and begin to tell my story. It was time. I was ready. But would I break down in tears in my tenderness? I decided there was strength in realness, and I was brave and bold to demonstrate what we as humans are capable of. It was liberating to not have to hide the truth any longer. You can listen to the replay of that episode here.
When would I get to hear Travis’s voice next? I had an odd feeling of peace in this separation and at the same time a strong desire to be together. What would this new normal truly be like?
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Peace & Love,
Janessa