Ghosts

The other day during lunch one of the vocational teachers came into our chow hall and pulled two of his aides aside.  He told them that two hours prior a recently retired officer had committed suicide.  Mr. Townsend was a thirty year veteran of DOC.  He was a good, kind, decent man.  His death caught many of us by surprise.  We had no way of knowing the pain he carried.

We learned that Mr. Townsend’s wife was terminally ill.  Near death and hospitalized she would soon leave her husband alone.  The retirement had taken away his day to day purpose; he couldn’t bear to lose his wife as well.  Mr. Townsend’s son is in Afghanistan, again, in a war – like all wars – that has lasted much too long, caused more death and pain than success, and causes you to wonder, when will we learn?

Ghosts.  Mr. Townsend had ghosts.  And I prayed about him that night knowing that we all have ghosts, and we can’t let the ghosts rule.

On a recent documentary about James Meredith’s admission to the then all-white University of Mississippi, the narrator asked, “What is the cost of knowing our past, and what is the cost of not?”  I thought about those words a good deal the past day as I wondered why Mr. Townsend felt that all was lost.  His demons overtook him, and that is a tragedy.

We all have things that weigh us down.  In here, I see it everyday.  The vast majority of men in prison come from dysfunctional, uneducated, economically depressed homes.  Abuse:  alcohol, drug, home violence are common almost daily occurrences.  Stability is a concept alien to their life as is self respect and love.  And crime, feeling victimized, lacking remorse and empathy is the only way many of these men cope. 

So, they do horrible things, violent things, impulsive, reckless things and the carnage continues.  It’s strange when you hear someone explain shooting another person or beating them senseless.  And you wonder how do they live with the guilt, the shame, of their actions?  You look at the dullness in their eyes, the repeat trips to prison, and you realize they don’t.  Unlike Mr. Townsend, who placed a gun beside his head, these men kill themselves slowly.  And the results are the same.

Ghosts.  I lived with mine for a long time and my friends, they couldn’t tell.  That’s how it is with ghosts.  We see them every day, the guilt and self-loathing knowing we weren’t being true to ourselves, our better nature.  But no one else can see them.

There’s a great verse in the book of Isaiah.  The prophet tells the beleaguered, desperate citizens of Israel, “Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you.” (Isaiah 60:1)  It took me a long time to figure out what he was getting at.

It’s a simple message:  get going.  You can’t sit back in pain and self-pity.  Fight on, even when you’re hurting because God is with you.  No matter what, God has your back.  It is a wonderful, powerful message of hope. I wish someone had taken the time to share it with Mr. Townsend.

I write a great deal about this broken, desperate prison system full of broken, desperate men and the rubble that is their lives.  It is not a place to find much solace and hope.  And that, I think, is precisely the people and the place Isaiah was sending his shout out to.

I’ve had a weird week in here.  Amidst the polarization of the election, the damage of Hurricane Sandy, the fights and thefts and lies in this place, and the officer’s suicide, I felt as calm and at peace as I can ever remember.  Ghosts, I’ve learned, can be let go.  And, the past – and the present – don’t define your future.  Even for the guys in here, there’s hope.  Life doesn’t have to continue as it was.  And prison – not prison with walls and counts and years – the prison of our guilt, and actions, and fears, can be put behind us.