Day of Reckoning
It was here. The day that I have been dreading for so long was officially unavoidable. I woke up holding my wife in my arms, ignoring that alarm clock, pretending that it didn't exist. As we got on the road, there was a sobering silence. It can really mess with your mind when you are forced to drive in a direction where you know the finish line is the last place you want to be.
As we head into the mountains along the Interstate 5, we knew we were close. And the Copus Road exit officially started our ticking clock to 25 minutes. Nauseating. The feeling in the pit of my stomach was indescribable. The lump in my throat felt like a watermelon with jagged edges.
And there is was, bold lettering that said "Taft Correctional Institution." Its almost as if the long desolate stretch of the 1/4 mile driveway was purposely dramatic. As we pulled into the lot, we parked the card and sat, motionless. The clock still said I had twenty minutes left and I was not about to go a minute sooner. My wife and I held each other. The tears from both of us were different than they ever were. The journey we have had over the past 8 months has had its large share of tears, but none were quite like the ones today. The tears were few, but the size of golf balls. I felt like I was losing a piece of my heart. A big piece. The love of my life. My everything. I can't believe I have to say goodbye. I cant believe that last night would be the last time I lay next to her in bed for a long while.
All I could say was "I'm sorry" as I held her in my arms. Sorry I did this to us. Sorry I put you in this position. Sorry I have to leave you. Sorry I hurt you. Sorry I let my bad decisions take away the security I so badly wanted for my family.
As my wife, mother in law, and myself got out of the car, everything was in slow motion. We sat in the waiting area after I checked in. While I sat the bench, my mother in law kneeled on the ground, holding my hands inside hers. I will never forget it. It was her way of telling me in a million ways that everything is going to be ok.
My last moments were spent holding my wife's hand. While we both had an overwhelming amount of fear and sadness, there was a surprising firmness to our hold. It was a hold that instilled a last minute vote of confidence. Confidence in us. Confidence in knowing that we WILL get through this. Confidence that time will pass faster than we can imagine. She is the source of my strength, and she was exactly that until the very last minute we were physically together.
As I passed through the metal detectors, I turned back. I saw her beautiful face. A sight that will forever be engrained in my mind.
So here we enter, the next chapter in our story. There is a lot to learn, a lot to achieve, and a lot to believe in. Many more chapters to come...
