I recently had an amazing visit with my two-year-old grandson and was given a beautiful gift. I would like to share how I was feeling and the impact of the time we spent together. This is how it went…
I walk into the prison’s visiting center, not knowing what to expect. It’s been a few months since I saw him last and I wonder if he’ll remember me. I spot them in the back of the room and make my way down the aisle. When I see that precious little boy his smile instantly melts my heart. He runs to me with his arms out yelling, “Papa!” I am overwhelmed with emotions. I instantly flash back to 20 years ago when his mother, my daughter, just a little girl herself, ran into my arms in a prison visiting center not much different from this one. I scoop him up, this little package of pure love, as his giggles of joy fill the room. I am transported to a place far from the misery of my incarceration. While in that moment I am set free, free to be who I am in my heart—just a simple man spending time with his grandchild.
He sits in my lap and I read to him; his tiny fingers hold my hand as we turn the pages together. He knows his colors and points them out for me. He likes red. While we are coloring I notice he’s using his left hand. I think he is going to be a lefty. Elmo is his favorite character in the Sesame Street coloring book. He pronounces it, “Melmo.” I’m in heaven.
I sing “Baby Shark,” and he shows me how he can dance. He wiggles his skinny, little bum, shaking it back and forth; he turns it up a notch when he sees that he’s making me laugh. His smiles and giggles are absolutely infectious.
I actually get lost in these moments and forget where I am as we spend the next hour singing, reading books, and coloring. He is magical. My heart is bursting with his love. He’s pure joy to be with.
He points to an unseen boo boo on the back of his small hand. I ask him if he wants me to kiss it with a magic Papa kiss. He nods enthusiastically. The look of sincerity in his face tells me how serious this process truly is. I make a big production of giving multiple, magic kisses to make it better. He smiles with approval.
I ask him if he wants to take a picture with his Papa. He leads the way dragging me along, his tiny hand grasping mine, while insisting, “c’mon, Papa.” I pick him up and as we wait for the “click” I tell him, “Say cheeeese.” He’s a natural and clearly has done this before. Priceless. I will cherish it forever.
We get goodies from the vending machine. He shares his chewy fruit snacks with me, then his nimble, little fingers continue stuffing the tasty treats into his mouth. I give him sips of my soda and he scrunches up his tiny face in an adorable grimace. I can tell the bubbles tickle his nose. I can’t stop smiling. I am flooded with memories of visits with his mother, many, many years ago.
I’m amazed at how well behaved the little guy is. He’s so sweet, affectionate and sensitive. He has such an outgoing personality and is talkative, happy and fun to be with. How can he be so perfect? Well, his mother, my baby, was perfect, too. I’m filled with pride for his parents; they’ve created an incredible little human being. I search for some little part of me in his tiny features. I think he has my chin…
All too soon the prison guards call an end to the visit. I am holding my grandson in my arms as we say our goodbyes. He gives me a big hug and sloppy, wet kiss. I hand him back and he blows me kisses and yells, “bye Papa” as they leave through the large metal door. I’m left standing there still floating on clouds.
Then, a mere moment later, I am violently snapped back to reality. A guard escorts me into a small room to be strip searched before being returned to my cellblock–a degrading and humiliating end to every visit. It doesn’t seem real. What has happened? My mind, in a whirl, struggles to make sense of the immense change of emotions.
After I re-dress, I walk down the long hallway from the visiting center back into the depths of the prison. It’s surreal and unbearable. My heart is breaking. I walk through the check points with large, barred gates slamming behind me. My insides jump at the sound of each cold, steal mechanism locking, isolating me from the immense joy I felt only moments ago. My grandson is gone and I’m alone again. Although I’ve become accustom to the sadness and pain, I’m not calloused by it. It’s still a raw nerve. I feel deeply the loss. The emptiness is unbearable. I miss him already.
I return to my prison cell and for hours I struggle with my feelings. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, my heart and mind reconcile the contradiction of emotions. I suddenly realize what I must take away from this raging conflict in my soul. The fog lifts and it all becomes clear. Message received. I understand. I must draw strength from the pain. What better motivation is there then the unconditional love of a child? I remember what I am fighting for. It’s not only my exoneration and my freedom; it’s my family and my grandson. I must remain strong and continue to fight. Thank you for the reminder, my beautiful little boy. Papa loves you.
This is the year of dreams. I will dream of a life filled with happiness, of spending every moment I can with my family, my partner, and my precious grandson, as a free man. I must stay focused and remain positive. With life there is hope, and every day that I am alive to fight and to dream of a better tomorrow will bring me One Day Closer…
Hello Brian , this is Carol Normandin, I used to work with Nikki and Donald and I are the couple that did our semi private Lamaze classes with you both in your apartment when our girls were due 29 years ago. Such a long time ago and I am sorry for the situation you find yourself in. It is truly heartbreaking for everyone that is involved for sure . After reading this posts I felt the need to reach out to you as say hello. I have thought of you many times over the years and this terrible situation you found yourself in. Amber has grown into a lovely young lady . I was so happy to spend some time with her when Shelby and her were classmates . She is truly lovely! Take care of yourself. I’ll be keeping you in my prayers . ❤️🙏
Brian
Your words paint a picture of beauty and heartbreak. I pray this is the year that you are exonerated, it is hard to see the good in all the pain at times. Your words speak what is in your heart; the treasures of loved ones, memories, time!!
Remembering you and your beautiful family. Hope, our gift! Never let it go. Best wishes this year.
Sincerely, Vickie Fetterman
My heart breaks for you my life long friend. I see your aunt and uncle at the post office I work at now in little Compton. They come in and se me and of course we talk about you. I love you brother. And I believe in my heart you will be with your family again soon. Your grandson is a beautiful little man. And I know working 20 years for the state of RI corrections how cold and uncaring that place is. Stay strong my friend and I will see you real soon. I truly believe that. Love you brother.
What a beautiful reflection, Brian. Being a grandparent has been the best experience of my life. You are right…there is hope in those tiny fingers, giggles and smiles. You remain in my thoughts and prayers. 💟 cousin, Lisa.
Brain I just finished reading your message and you had me in tears, I am so proud of you and the man you have become and all you have endured all these years. You write so beautifully and express yourself so well. Keep up your spirits and this is your year that everything will go your way, I heard you have a wonderful team working for your freedom. You will soon be with your grandson and your beautiful family.
Love you so much
Auntie Alda
2020 IS YOUR YEAR!!!! I pray everyday that you continue to be Strong and BELIEVE that this is almost over. Your grandson brings a re-newed LIFE to an otherwise very dark place. I look forward to hearing from you again; in the meantime please know how VERY VERY MUCH you are LOVED!! Love Tina Plourde
My dear son, I am amazed as I read your blog. You brought me back to a time when you were a little boy always having fun with whatever you did. Your tender heart was so much more evident back then where you could cry at a movie and yet tease your sister unmercifully. I remember that time when she asked you to push her on the swing in the backyard. I watched from the window and thought how nice it was to see the two of you having fun together until she said “ok Brian that’s enough ” but of course you weren’t ready to stop until finally she said to you , “Brian stop or I’ll throw up on you”. I’ll never forget the look on your face as you believed that she would and you left her alone. When I hear you talking about your beautiful grandson my great-grandson I see that heart that I haven’t seen since you were a little boy. The vulnerability, the great love, the extreme joy and then the great disappointment. While you have been incarcerated I haven’t seen those emotions. You could not allow yourself to experience them. That amazing grandson of yours brought you back to us you couldn’t help yourself you just came bursting out. That’s my tender-hearted, fun-loving, big teddy bear! I missed you. This year is different in so many ways, the year of dreams, so much closer. I can hardly wait honey! Love you Mom ~~~
Brian,
Having met you in that place and having taken that exact same walk… I know. I just.. know bro. You did a perfect job of relaying the feeling man. Awesome. If you can keep writing your blog posts from that perspective, from YOUR internal dialogue just like you did with this one, they will remain as effective and powerful as this one was. You had ME in tears as well (I read that you touched someone else like this as well.) And Brian, I walked from the Visit Room to the cellblock many, many times too, for 8 years. I know it’s not the 25 you have but it’s long enough to feel it. It’s lonely (except I had you and Bobby to come back to the block to and talk about what I was feeling…..thankfully) and it SUCKS. Yeah, and I’m sorry you’re still there and I got to get out. I really am. (And yeah I get that YOU are not sorry that I am home because you WANT me out here living my life… I get it!) Just know that Monica and I (and it appears a whole lot of others) are right here WITH YOU. So when you are on that lonely walk back to the unit.. and you hear those doors and gates clanging shut and that oppressive feeling of “I’m alone” and “Goodbye Grandson” or “Woe is me” hits you…. tell your internal dialogue to shut up and STOP LYING TO YOU bro… it MAKES YOU DEPRESSED!! The truth of the matter is you are FAR FROM ALONE, my man. You’re just stuck in one city and can’t move PHYSICALLY from that location. THAT is your ONLY limitation my brother. You have a TON of people surrounding you INCLUDING ME, MY WIFE, YOUR GIRLFRIEND, YOUR FAMILY, THE LITTLE BOY YOU WROTE ABOUT – shall I list them all? Give me a call when L reads this to you, will you? We should talk! I think you need some Jonathan Luvin again! 🙂 HUGZ my man.
Brian,
You don’t need to dream of a life filled with happiness to come in the future Brian!!! YOU have happiness right in front of you that you could ENJOY RIGHT NOW. Just because you happen to be sleeping in a crappy bed in a crappy bedroom in a crappy house TEMPORARILY (we’re damn sure at this point, right??) does not mean that you can not find the bits of happiness in your life, however limited it may be right now, and enjoy them for what they are. Being INSIDE THE PERIMETER WALL does not prohibit the experience of happiness inherently. YOU must be the one to allow that to happen, Brian. Which means YOU can be the one to choose NOT to allow it or to choose the opposite. Do you understand my logic? Good, then put it into practice and begin to feel better about the time between this moment and the time you’re sitting on my sofa in East Boston, sir. Thank you for listening, Goldstein, Out.
Dear Brian: Your mom gave us you’re beautiful and sensitive story. You did a great job, and the Holy Spirit was your guide!
God is a God of Justice! Amen!
The photos you posted are TREASURES! We remember when you were as tall as Amber.
God bless you and our cards will continue going your way.
Huggy in Christ,
with OUR love
Manny (yes!) and Ellie
Hey Brian I remember you as a kid in Westport school.we we’re only kids at the time.during science class you gave me my first tattoo of what supposed to be a naked girl.man I think about you a lot and I can’t imagine how you feel about losing your freedom.life doesn’t stop now.your a soldier and always will be.I hope and pray for a release for your freedom.keep your head up God and your family loves you.as your alone in prison your in our hearts and mind as Jesus is with us.