On Monday, I went to Oshkosh Correctional for pastoral visits.
My third 1:1 was with C, who lost his mom a year ago. Losing a loved one is even more painful when incarcerated. You feel helpless, disconnected, and ashamed.
Through tears, C spoke of how painful it is to think of his mom dying alone, no one to hold her hand. He’s the oldest child and he should have been with her.
We explored his regret, much of which was unnecessary, unkind judgment. (This is not atypical in prison.) C called her every week. He sent her cards. He listened and supported her.
In group, we’ve discussed and practiced forgiveness. I asked him about forgiving himself.
He can forgive some things. He knows how traumatic and painful his childhood was; how that pain led to unskillful actions. He understands.
But then he firmly said,
“I can’t forgive myself for not going deeper with my mom. I stayed on the surface. I never told her how much I appreciated her working two jobs to feed and house us. I didn’t share from my heart.”
“I don’t share that way with anyone. But I’m changing now. I’m going deeper with my sister and niece. It feels important.”
C memorializes his mom by being real, not pretending he’s okay when he’s not. And by sharing why and how he loves people. He cried more in that 1:1 than in all the others combined.
This is a beautiful, poignant reminder to not wait. Don’t hold back the love. Don’t hold back the appreciation. Don’t wait.
Tell people you love them. Tell people the small and big ways you appreciate them. Tell people how you really are.
We all want to love and be loved.
In the words of Father Greg Boyle, “What’s the next most loving thing I can do?”
What’s the next loving thing you can do?