I was just a child when my father went to prison. At the young age of five, devastation broke loose as I was told that my father wasn't coming home. I was heartbroken and I didn't understand. My Dad was my rock and I clung to his every movement. But it was all taken away within minutes. I started seeing him as the bad guy and I feared him. No matter what age you are at, you will feel the same way. The heaviness to your chest presses you down and makes you feel like you are twice your weight. Your shoulders sink and feel as if you have ropes pulling on them. At this point it is crucial for you to breathe. Being as calm as you can possibly be will help you cope much faster. Also, you should make yourself as busy as possible. Taking your mind off of things will give you enough time to reason with your thoughts, without giving time for unrationed plans or self pity. It is crucial not to shut these feelings out! Making yourself busy is not an excuse for forgetting your feeling and questions. It just makes an appropriate amount of time instead of allowing yourself to get stuck in your head. Finally you should talk to someone about what you are feeling. Letting someone else know what is going on will take some of the edge off of everything your experiencing. Speak with someone you trust and note that there is no reason to be embarrassed. These are my experiences and I hope that you will be able to recreate something similar. If you do, you will be able to keep a strong realationship with your parent.

With help from family I was able to write him letters. The prison had many regulation as to how the letter could be sent in, such as no glue, no crayons, no stickers, and so on. This was because many people have used this to sneak in drugs. But I loved sending my Dad letters. It strengthened our bond and let me know that we did not have to stop being in each others lives. Letters also gave him insight about the everyday world. As years went by he started to lose touch on what went on in the world. So giving him notion on everything that he didn't see on TV was a way he could stay connected. As I got older I would write math equations on the top of the paper. He loved this because it gave him something to connect with me about. He would do it back and we must have spent hours all together figuring out each others math over the years. He would also send me nine cards in each letter. This was representation of the nine years he was sentenced to and it was a way to make sure I had something to remember him by. I would later get this tattooed on my shoulder blade.

The first call was awkward and melancholy, but we then started to get into a rhythm. We scheduled a day that he would call every week, so I would never miss his voice. He would tell me about the good parts of his day and I would do the same. It was important to keep our conversations happy. We could always look forward to our non-stressful talks about how much we loved each other. I slowly started seeing him as my dad again. Our calls were always timed and monitored, but this was a way to hear his voice and let him know that I was going to be okay. Sometimes I could hear the stress in his voice and sometimes he could hear the stress in mine, but we always kept our conversations light. We reminded each other of the good times we had when he was out and he promised new memories when he could. At the end of every call we would give each other a virtual kiss and a hug, even if the machine operated voice cut us off mid hug. Having traditions gave us memories so we didn't always feel like we were missing out on our own memories.

Visits were my favorite way of communication. Sometimes I was able to visit once a year and other times it was once every other week. It all depended on where he was transferred to. But I knew almost every prison guard in Michigan by name. I knew that I needed to wear thick baggy clothes, even in summer, with no hoods or zippers. Just incase, I packed a extra outfit in the car if they wouldn't let me in. Once I entered the gate I was pat down everywhere! They allowed 10 pieces of jewelry and counted before and after you went in. But once you were let into the visiting room, it was the best feeling in the world. You sat next to 15 other families, with two guards, and tons of cameras. The rules said I couldn't touch my Dad but the guards never got mad if I held his hand. We then got tons of food from the vending machines that lined the walls. This was the only time any of the prisoners got to eat regular food so we would normally spend about fiftey dollars all together. Even if it was the quality of gas station food, and sometimes gave us food poisoning, it was still better then the food they got. I adjusted to the food and over the years I began to crave it. Then we could sit down and look each other in the eyes. Our conversations were full of laughter and our eyes were full of love. I would stay as long as I possibly could and talk to my Dad. After I started being able to see him in person I stopped seeing him as the bad guy. He then became my rock once again.

I wont sit here and tell you that it has been easy. It has been one of the hardest experiences in my life. But I wanted to make sure that it is known, you do not have to sacrifice your relationship just because there is bars between you. It is ultimately your choice whether you forgive your parent for what they have done or not. But I am here to tell you that it is much easier to have a Mom or Dad to talk to then it is to cut them out.