When I walked out of the gate at San Quentin State Prison in California, I was not only free; I was ready to once again experience all of the joy and happiness in this world. The isolation, the passage of time, the possibility of dying inside β these are constant tortures in prison. Still, in spite of the brutal conditions, there is time for introspection and rehabilitation. Inside, I reflected on childhood trauma and healed. I considered my past and the murder that sent me to prison in the first place.
I grew. There is also time to process grief. But I did have solitude and time to process my feelings. I cried without digital distractions. Programs in prison help you deal with your past and present. But there is nothing available to prepare you for future miseries. Several self-help programs over 17 years of incarceration could not ready me for the death of my lover Erin Elizabeth Carroll.
We met on a dating app like so many people do now. We began texting back and forth β an instant connection. It was rare to be with someone who had never been involved in the criminal justice system but still understood my past. We quickly developed a relationship and spent our free time together. But when you love someone, you take them for who they are and not who you want them to be.
I loved all of her imperfections. Even with empathy and self-help groups, you can only imagine how much pain and suffering your actions caused. Erin died unexpectedly from natural causes in June There was no one I could blame for her death, except maybe the universe or God, since they created her with Type 1 diabetes and epilepsy.
She managed her health conditions deftly. She rowed crew every Saturday. I do know she died working at her desk in her apartment with only her cat Orion nearby. It felt like a movie when I visited her apartment to check on her and was told by strangers at her building that she had died.
