By Esi Mathis, California

Mother’s Day was meant to be a day of celebration for all mothers.  Yet for many of us it is a painful reminder that our sons and daughters are serving life in prison without the possibility of parole.

My son was arrested at age 17.  Living hundreds of miles away in another state made it unfeasible for me to be present at his sentencing.  I vaguely remember the shock and numbness upon hearing his sentence: “Life in prison, without the possibility of parole.”  It was surreal.  A bad dream.  How could my son be sentenced to life in prison? There is no “life” in prison.

During the 20 years of my son’s incarceration, it has been difficult to fully celebrate Mother’s Day.  For many of those years I felt the stigma of failing as a mother.  My reluctance to tell friends and coworkers that I had a son in prison was not because I was ashamed of him; I was ashamed of me.  Somehow I knew

I had failed him.  The disdainful looks I often received revealed the unspoken condemnation I felt.  What “good” mother has a child in prison? I have apologized to my sons for every possible failure I could think of.  In the face of the harsh, unjust sentence, I will continue to advocate for changes to unfair sentencing practices.  I will encourage and instill hope in my son that his freedom is possible.

It is almost Mother’s Day again.  I am happy for the mothers who can celebrate with their sons and daughters nearby, worshipping together and dining together. Being together.  I mourn for the mothers who have lost children to violence. And I weep for every mother who shares the painful reminder on Mother’s Day that our children are present with us because they are incarcerated for life. My heart aches with the reality that an unjust system has deemed them “unredeemable.”

If he could, my son would bring fragrant flowers to adorn the table. If he could, he and his brother would cook a special Mother’s Day meal, as they often did when they were younger. If he could, he would indulge me with a box of dark chocolates. If only he could. But he can’t. Instead he likely spends Mother’s Day worrying about me worrying about him. Is he safe? Is he being mistreated? Does he have the things he needs? If only I could see him. Hug him. Have him home again.

Mother’s Day should be a time of joyous celebration for every mother. For too many of us, joy is mingled with pain. We are painfully separated from our children by distance, brick and mortar, bars and barbed wire. We are painfully haunted by doubt and guilt. “Where did I go wrong?” “What signs did I miss?” “Why wasn’t I more attentive?”

For me, Mother’s Day can never be fully celebrated until my oldest son comes home…. until all of our sons and daughters come home. Then, we can truly say and experience “Happy Mother’s Day.”