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The time a huge incarcerated man made me cry - Conclusion

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I still didn't look up.  A feeling told me that something big was happening here.  Out of my peripheral vision, I can see six legs to my left.  Two had nicely pressed Black Pants with a thick blue stripe down the seemlines, and nicely polished black boots.  Then there were two more legs, wearing a dark blue cotton tattered pants, and a pair of ankles, that had two pairs of shackles on them.  TWO PAIR??? Then a third set of legs, identical to the first two, on the other side... of these massive legs, with double pairs of chains binding the middle guys legs, thus creating the shuffling sound.  At this point I am afraid to look up fully, as I am amazed at this sight, and was trying to take it all in.  My gaze slowly drove upward, where two sets of chains, from the two sets of shackles, extended from his bound, sock-covered ankles, to a huge, thick leather belt at his waist.  The chains went through a metal ring that was secured to the belt.

 

 

 

His waist, as big around as one the caskets, was level with my chest.  This guy was fucking HUGE.  Both of his hands were bound by, yet again, TWO pairs of chained handcuffs, each of which had their little chains going through the same ring on his belt, successfully securing his hands at his waist.  His hands were GINORMOUS.  His clenched fists each the size of my head, and white hot from the lack of blood that happens when you close your hand too tightly.  His hands were white, literally, like an albino white from the power with which he clenched them.  Both of his huge man-fists were shaking slightly... Powerful pent up rage was contained in those hands like 2 liter bottles filled with a pressure building gas that are waiting to explode...

 

 

 

I continue my gaze upwards to his way-to-thick neck, which was red and had a large throbbing vein down the right side, as I was standing to his right.  His face was moist all over, no real visible sign of the source of this moisture, maybe it was just sweat from the heat of the day, most likely not.  He was surprisingly clean, nicely shaven, with newly cut hair.  His eyes were glassy, and his teeth were clenched so tightly, that his jaw muscles convulsed, and twitched with that same pent up destructive force that seemed to make the world tremble with the possibility of it's release.

 

 

 

I feel a hand on my shoulder and I scoot a few feet more to the right as he shuffles closer to the casket, and looks down.  I hadn't even noticed that the correctional officer had gently nudged me away from the large man.  The officer said "Son, are you..." and I wasn't paying attention to him but knew that I should make my way out and give this guy some time.  Then a brutal, and disgusting grunt/moan/cry came from the prisoner, as his mouth opened and he almost gagged.  His lower jaw shook violently, as he mustered a sentence I will never forget my entire life.

 

 

 

"The one time I see my daughter, and she is in a fucking casket..."  He clenched his jaw again, now an obvious move to conceal his inability to control his facial features.  With his hands bound at the waist, he is forced to bend his head down to his shirt coller to try and wipe away the tears, which just spread them to his whole face.  Creating the illusion that his entire face was soaking wet...

 

 

 

I backed out of the room slowly with one of the correctional officers, as the other stayed just barely inside the room at the exit door.  They were obviously being respectful of his need for a few minutes with his beloved daughter...

 

 

 

 

I left the funeral home, with tears of my own streaming down my face faster than I ever thought possible.  I was not crying for Cindy, but for her dad, who loved her, and who did not want his first visit with his daughter to be like this... With seering hot eye-water blurring my vision, I hopped back into my truck, which my best friend had taken the liberty of taking the drivers seat of, somehow knowing that I might need someone else to drive.

 

 

 

 

I will never forget Cindy Jumper, and her dad, and Mr. Mickles.  My only hopes are that by some miracle, that cocksucking step-father of hers, might someday end up in the same prison as Cindy's dad, which would be a desirable end to his shitty existence.  A finish fit for a really good story, but also a finish, that with much grief and regret, I cannot claim happened.

 

 

 

Thank you for sticking with me on this, as I haven't revisited any of this since it happened, and it felt good to get it out.  I have to admit that just typing this up this morning, has caused me to have to compose myself each time my office phone rings and that, my good friends, is why I write.

 

 

 

I am HunterDad, and I just poured out my soul

 

HunterDad Uploaded 01/15/2009
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