RIP

The loss of a child is incomparable to anything else on earth.

Many of us have suffered tremendous losses. Others are more fortunate, and manage to get late in to adulthood before having to understand real trauma. I feel like I can always tell the people who have or haven't experienced deep loss and opportunity to overcome and adjust their philosophy or mindset. People who have gone through some things are more often adaptable to situations as they arise, and don't take things too seriously; whereas those who have not been dealt major blows in life are more apt to freak out over situations that may seem trivial to those of us who have experienced great loss.

One of the ladies in the GROW program lost her daughter yesterday, after her daughter lost her battle with cancer. She has tried everything to be with her in her last days. While housed in Honolulu 22 months ago, she was told that she would have to wait until she arrived at the camp in Phoenix. Once arriving here a few months back, she was unsuccessful in getting through to staff, and tried starting the process again. We have had interim wardens here since June, and I'm not sure if anyone wants to assume the responsibility of signing off on her furlough. But the fact of the matter is, we are all considered out custody at the camp. Cookie's story is one of the saddest. Soon after her arrest, she lost her father and brother. She was on pre-trial status in Hawaii, and unable to attend their funerals. Her daughter had been diagnosed with colon cancer, and her grandchildren were leaving their 8th grade and 12th grade classes to care for their mom. The oldest just dropped out in her senior year.

There is nothing quick about the government. No fast pass to apply for and obtain caregivers. Tax payer dollars are being thrown around on utter bullshit, but we can' seem to help a dying woman and her school aged children. By the time she was seen and allowed hospice, it was too late.

I have been helping Cookie apply for compassionate release. She meets every criteria in terms of no violence, no risk to community, low risk for recidivism. The process has been lengthy. First, she needed to apply to the (interim) warden. We know by reading the bylines and instructions that all we need is the imminent denial at the BOP level to file with the federal court. We sent her request to the warden. We wait. They respond asking for more documentation. We wait. Medical records and physician letters are provided. Wait. Denial letter comes. We motion the federal courts, attaching the denial letter we had been waiting for, along with all documentation and describe her dire situation in entirety in her motion. We send it to the court on Friday. Her daughter dies on Tuesday.

To say that Cookie was "ready" for the loss of her daughter is belligerent at best. No one is ever ready. No matter how prepared they try to be, regardless of their individual story. NO ONE is ever ready to lose a child. Yes, we messed up. Yes, we are here for that reason. Does that make Cookie less of a mother? The same mother that screwed up and made bad decisions to support her children in a desperate time. The mother who suffers a triple dose of punishment, losing her immediate family as a result of her mistakes.

Last night was hard. The chaplain left (after he heard the news) without seeing Cookie. Our counselor was working late, and he came upstairs and had compassion for her. But, what could he do? What's done is done. She didn't want anyone around her, and stayed in bed. I checked on her a couple of times. I have never hugged anyone in here, but I just laid on her and held her for what felt like hours- while she sobbed.

After night count, the GROW unit felt like magic. There was so much power in that dorm. I never would have thought that some of these women were capable of such raw emotion and love. There is no other explanation than God.

God was in the dorm with us last night.

Around 10pm, ladies starting walking upstairs from the dog program, led by Ms. K. It was a sight to see. The women in the GROW program joined them, and when Cookie looked up in her room, there was a line of women, holding hands in her room and stretched out into the living area, throughout the dorm halls. You would swear there were candles or lanterns in their hands. Of course, there were none. But the very image eluded to such a vision, that you could almost feel it enough to see the light around us. Ms. K led the most beautiful prayer. As she asked our father to touch the heart of the judges, case managers, wardens, and physical powers that be. For Cookie's family, and for all of us. There is no doubt in our minds that he was working through her. By the time the prayer closed, there was not a dry eye in the house. More importantly, the strength in numbers come to support Cookie and show solidarity was the most powerful thing I have witnessed here.