Death of a Friend

My friend Bill was taken to the prison hospital last week, where he died in their hospice unit.  A 64-year old man with pancreatic cancer, he died alone, though if they’d considered taking him to an outside hospital, maybe his family could have been at his side (there, of course, he’d have been chained to the bed even as he breathed his last).    Yes, Bill was a prisoner, and he never claimed to be innocent of the crime he committed.  He already had cancer’s death sentence on him when he was tried and convicted of extorting money and given a 20-year sentence he knew he’d never outlive. 

They tell us there’s a program of “compassionate release”, but in Bill’s case, he hadn’t served enough time to qualify.  He begged the guards to let him spend his last few days in his cube, among the friends he’d made during four years in prison, but they wouldn’t hear of it.  He’d hoped for a slice of pumpkin pie and to trade snacks from his holiday bag at Christmas, maybe thank the guys who’d lifted him up when he was down, but nobody is ever allowed to die on the Unit.   That would be bad for statistics.  The public can’t hear that people die in prison.  So during his last days, facing the cold fact that he would never again take a breath outside of these walls, no friends, no caring, no empathy.

Before they took him away, Bill told us not to mourn.  Up until the end almost, he was out on the yard playing softball and racket sports.  If a guy failed to hustle, he’d admonish him, “Hey, I’m a walking corpse, what’s your excuse?”  Bill never felt sorry for himself.  He wanted to die with dignity, and I have to think that he did.

I hate this place.  I hate what they do to people.  I won’t let it infect me.  I won’t succumb to anger.  I won’t become bitter.  I won’t lose hope.  I won’t let these walls change my heart.  That’s my position always, but you know what?  Today, I hate this place.  Today I am angry and sad and disillusioned.  Tomorrow, Bill will be gone, but the rest of us will still be here.  The sun is going to rise, I’ll get off my bunk, and it’s going to be a beautiful day.  What other choice do I have?