Knowing that my actions and bad decisions tore my family apart saddened me, but seeing the pain in my children’s eyes and hearing their questions to which I had no easy answers to cut like a knife. ‘Daddy, why don’t we live together anymore?’ ‘Daddy, what did we do wrong?’ ‘Daddy, do you still love us?’
‘Daddy, I saw mommy crying, why doesn’t she smile anymore?’ Each question cut deeper and deeper. What hurt the most is when my daughter said she overheard my wife on the phone saying she enjoyed her date the other night and she couldn’t wait for them to go out again. I tried my best to assure them that everything would be okay, that they did nothing wrong, that I still loved them and their mother and that I made some bad decisions that carried some rough consequences.
I knew then that I had to get myself together. I had to get out of my own way. The problem is, I dug a hole so deep for myself that I couldn’t get out…or so I thought.
At recess, I overheard an inmate talking about Jesus to other inmates. He sounded really good in his tone and diction, but I had a hard time believing him considering we were all in jail awaiting death row.