Dec 30, 2018 at 11:36 AM
It was way too long.
Over a decade since I had last seen my son.
The fault was mainly mine.
In his later, teenage wild out years, I couldn’t and didn’t want to risk my out spoken, take no shit, quick to throw a snap back to anyone that dares to make a disrespectful under the breath comment about his lifestyle.
He proudly defends his crown of me labeling him the gayest man on earth.
So for him to come to visit me at Canaan, one of the most violent penitentiaries in America, wasn’t a good idea for a number of different reasons at that time.
Our weekly phone calls would have to do.
Christmas 2018 happened to fall on a Tuesday this year, when I get my visits here at MDC Brooklyn where I’m still waiting to hear the outcome of my appeal.
My son, along with his sister Nia and my mother were coming to visit.
In our recent phone conversations, I asked him not to get too emotional with the tears.
Drew of course, sticking to his true form, denied my request.
“I’m just a very emotional person and I won’t be able to hold it back,” said with a flamboyancy I had no choice but to accept.
Walking through the visiting room door, a surprised lump caught my throat as I laid eyes on my son, looking like he stepped off the cover of the GQ magazine.
While he kept his cool, it was I that was struggling to hold back the flood of tears as we embraced and I gave my son a kiss.
The time flew by and after another strong hug and kiss goodbye, I gave the same to my mother and daughter, then doubled back for a third hug and kiss, thanking Drew for this incredible gift to end the year with.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!