Jay’s* daughter, Valerie, died today. She was forty-one years old and left behind three children...
The cause of death was complications from AIDS. Valerie lived a life of drug addiction with tons of self-inflicted pain.
Shortly after Christmas, I saw Jay in the cell block wearing a troubled and downcast face. When I asked him what was up, he told me he’d just received word that his daughter was taken to the hospital and was in critical condition. She had been sick for a while with HIV. Now her condition has worsened and, he confided, the family thought Valerie’s current stay might be her last.
I then asked Jay if he would allow me and another prisoner, Ramon, to pray for him. He did. So, Ramon and I placed our hands on his shoulders and quietly prayed for him.
This occurred during the daytime, when most of the men were at their work assignments or school programs. Jay and Ramon, like me, are a part of the cell block’s work crew.
And as the days passed, Jay tried to stay in touch with his family via letters and telephone calls, where he would get updates on his daughter. Then, right after the New Year, Valerie lapsed into a coma of which she would never emerge.
Today, the phone rang in the chaplain’s office. A family member called to inform him that Jay’s daughter had died. He would have to tell him the news.
I think that no matter how long a man has worked as a prison chaplain, having to tell an inmate that a close relative has died is probably one of the hardest aspects of the job.
Of course, I did not know what had transpired until later in the day, when Jay approached me with the news. I then gave him a big hug and tried to encourage him as best I could. I told Jay that any time he wanted to talk, I would be there for him.
Like me, Jay is doing a long prison sentence. He’s already been incarcerated for a number of years. And while I do not know if he is ever going to be released, if he does get out, I hope he will be able to visit his daughter’s grave.
D.B.
*Jay is not his real name.
Shortly after Christmas, I saw Jay in the cell block wearing a troubled and downcast face. When I asked him what was up, he told me he’d just received word that his daughter was taken to the hospital and was in critical condition. She had been sick for a while with HIV. Now her condition has worsened and, he confided, the family thought Valerie’s current stay might be her last.
I then asked Jay if he would allow me and another prisoner, Ramon, to pray for him. He did. So, Ramon and I placed our hands on his shoulders and quietly prayed for him.
This occurred during the daytime, when most of the men were at their work assignments or school programs. Jay and Ramon, like me, are a part of the cell block’s work crew.
And as the days passed, Jay tried to stay in touch with his family via letters and telephone calls, where he would get updates on his daughter. Then, right after the New Year, Valerie lapsed into a coma of which she would never emerge.
Today, the phone rang in the chaplain’s office. A family member called to inform him that Jay’s daughter had died. He would have to tell him the news.
I think that no matter how long a man has worked as a prison chaplain, having to tell an inmate that a close relative has died is probably one of the hardest aspects of the job.
Of course, I did not know what had transpired until later in the day, when Jay approached me with the news. I then gave him a big hug and tried to encourage him as best I could. I told Jay that any time he wanted to talk, I would be there for him.
Like me, Jay is doing a long prison sentence. He’s already been incarcerated for a number of years. And while I do not know if he is ever going to be released, if he does get out, I hope he will be able to visit his daughter’s grave.
D.B.
*Jay is not his real name.
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