No room for tears

An ex-offender describes experiencing the death of a loved one while in prison

by An ex-offender 18th March 2010

A knock on the cell door. A clunk of the key. A kindly face of a prison officer and a request that I go with him to see the duty chaplain. This establishment of grey and gruel had been my home for just a couple of weeks as I progressed through the system from holding to long term gaol after receiving a four-year sentence some months previously. I wondered at the request. Was something special in store for me? Had I already been singled out as a potential chapel orderly or maybe this was all part of my new home’s induction programme for the new guest? We walked from the wing out into the sparkling fresh air and across the emerald green of the playing field to the Citadel’s Victorian chapel.  Whatever were my preconceptions of the of the purposes for this visit I was wrong, oh so totally wrong. We entered the chapel and my guide showed me to the office of the Methodist minister. I was invited to take a seat on the opposite side of his desk and the officer discreetly left. One minute later my life was turned upside down more than even when that phrase was used in court: ‘Take him down.’ ‘There’s no easy way to say this,’ said the chaplain. ‘Your mother died last night.’ My body took me over. A guttural sound exploded from my mouth. My stomach had given way to an eruption from the very pit of my being. Life had been extinguished. The final blow had been struck. My freedom had been taken away from me and now my life could be nothing but ashes.