God gave my boys a father to teach them respect, love, and loyalty. To show them how to stay out of prison. And through them, God’s helping me understand things I’ve been blind to and things I didn’t know before.
I’ve been sitting in this cell, on 24/7 lockdown because I’m on maximum security. I guess I have no choice but to learn from this punishment and start thinking on a different level.
Both my sons mean the world to me, but I sometimes wonder if they know how much I love them. Over the years, it feels like I’ve struggled to understand the love my kids have for me. Even when I try to think more positively, something inside me tells a whole different story. Maybe it’s these walls talking to me—I haven’t heard my sons’ voices in years.
I keep telling myself, “Damn, my boys look just like me,” and that’s no cap! I had a dream about them recently. We were playing backyard football, and my oldest son looked down at me with a smile and said, “Damn, Pops, you’re getting old—keep up!”
I see that as a sign from God, telling me I still have life to live, that I’ll be around longer than I expected, to see my boys grow up healthy and supported by a loving father. To be honest, I should have been dead a long time ago, but God gave my boys a father to teach them respect, love, and loyalty. To show them how to stay out of prison. And through them, God’s helping me understand things I’ve been blind to and things I didn’t know before.
