2 Jan 05
Farewell Mum & Dad
It is 3.09 pm, fifteen minutes after the final visit with my parents. My angst began when I gave them goodbye hugs. During the final minutes with my parents, I felt miserable for breaking their hearts by putting myself behind bars; I felt guilty seeing my mother weep as she departed the visitation room; I felt ashamed for failing those who raised me and stood by me no matter what I have done: I considered myself blessed for having their support when so many of my neighbours receive no help from beyond the prison walls.I was most conscience-stricken by my mother’s tearful eyes; an unproud image now permanently carved into my subconscious. My father put on a brave face by bantering and jesting, but his body language betrayed his vocal masquerade; his smile was surrounded by quivering facial expressions, and those windows of truth, his eyes, shone with unconcealable sadness.It is stomach-turning to realise that my parents, my pillars of strength and support, are victims of my wrongdoing. If I could have shielded them from this hurt I would have moved mountains to do so.This year I shall try harder to make amends and to outdo all of my previous accomplishments. By channelling my passion and energy relentlessly from my cell, I hope to repel the lingering tempest troubling my heart. Years of bondage cannot contain the enormity of my love-inspired drive that knows no fetters or chains. I am hopeful that my achievements thus far are a mere fraction of what’s in store, and that my parents will be proud of their prodigal son’s turnaround.
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