The last four days have been filled with strong lessons in loss.

I returned to my Prison to visit my friend, this time I went in alone. It was a sickening feeling, the fear that I might not come out and no one would know for a day. It’s a unrealistic fear, but a fear nonetheless. We had our three hours together and then, I left. I left her behind, again. Loss #1.

After my Prison visit, I had lunch with a friend, someone I hadn’t seen in over 20 years. We hung out in high school, we met our junior year, he had a crush on me, but he was too shy to act on it and I was too self-absorbed and self-destructive to properly acknowledge him. He’s become an amazing man. Funny, kind, educated, he’s a teacher and a husband. We ate pizza and talked about the past and present. It was as if that 20 year gap never existed. He told me that it was more than a crush, he was “madly in love” with me in high school. I laughed, but really, I was dying inside.

He loved me, me.

In high school, I was a mess, addicted, arrogant, confused. I passed him by for drugs and dirt balls that treated me like shit. I created the rocky path that led me to prison, instead of being loved and attempting to love in return.

Who knows what could have happened, what I could have become by accepting his good teenage heart. If I would have been driving to a date with him, maybe everything would be different, for everyone. Maybe he would have broken my heart, maybe we wouldn’t have made it past graduation, I’ll never know. Loss #2.

After lunch, I had a long drive ahead of me, I was exhausted, drained, numb to the events of the day. I had been up since 1:30 AM and I arrived at my parents after 7:00 PM. I was done.

The next day, I had plans to see another friend for breakfast. I had attended three different high schools and I met her at the second high school, in 9th grade. We were inseparable, we did everything together, we road bikes, we were mall rats, football game buddies, cohorts in typical bad teenage decisions. We called ourselves Bert & Ernie, we were quite a pair. I moved away in the beginning of my junior year and stayed in touch the way a sixteen year-old, without social media, would back then. I went back to visit, We even doubled to a homecoming dance at my old high school, but as before, my priorities became selfish and I disappeared. Loss #3.

She joined my parents and I that morning, with her husband and daughter. We talked about our past escapades, as appropriately as possible in front of a fourteen year old, we talked about the present. Again, it was if no time had passed, we were still friends. I kept looking at her, her family. She was a mom, a wife. She had raised this beautiful human being across the table from me and I missed it all. I missed being her friend as she became the woman she is now. Loss #4.

We left breakfast a little more whole than we we had come. There were hugs and damp eyes before we both moved on to the lives we had created, absent each others friendship, vowing not to let that happen from now on.

I had a 3 1/2 hour drive after breakfast and it was the longest ride of my life. It all began to hit me, what I missed out on, it was my fault, the love, the friendship, the growth and opportunities that I threw away.

Before you fire up your email to send me a nasty reminder. During this trip it did not escape me, in fact I am aware EVERYDAY, that my losses do not compare to the loss of life that I was accomplice to, that it was my actions that resulted in my lost friendships. I know, I am aware of the consequences of my actions, more aware than any strongly worded or hate-filled email or message could make me.

The next day marked the culmination of loss. That day we buried my grandmother.

My Gram Ruth was one of my biggest advocates. When the majority of my extended family left me to rot, my Gram filled my mailbox with cards and letters. She answered my phone calls and made the Herculean effort to visit. She attended one of my Prison graduation ceremonies and after having trouble with the metal detector, at 90 years old, proudly told a CO that nothing would stop her from seeing her granddaughter graduate. I am very proudly named after her.

I sat in the pews and listened as family, friends and neighbors spoke of the wonderful, tough, giving, stubborn woman my Gram was to us all. I don’t know why, but I knew I had to say something. I walked to the pulpit, looked out into the congregation and introduced myself. I eulogized my Gram much like I wrote of her here. I told them that I was in Prison and never once in 17+ years did she leave me alone in there.

After the service, many people came up and introduced themselves to me. They told me my Gram spoke of me often and they have known about me for years. They hugged me and shook my hand, and gave me condolences for my loss. Not one hateful, spiteful or negative word was spoken to me about my honesty on the pulpit or about where I had been.

When I went to Prison everyone, somewhere in my life, lost something and that was my fault. For years, I accepted that fact, took responsibility for it and moved forward with that knowledge on my heart. I realize now, more than ever before how much my Gram had lost too. How much everyone had lost and for what, public safety, punishment, retribution, vengeance?

My question now is what was the purpose of so much loss? Did it solve anything? Change anyone for the better? Why was eliminating my complete presence in the world necessary?

I’ll never be able to answer these questions because I was eliminated from the world. My face slowly disappeared from the family photos, lives went on without second thought to how I could have contributed. The world continued to grow in hate and violence, even with my absence.

17 plus years later, I returned to the world, no questions asked. Here I am again. I work, contribute, volunteer. I have new friendships and continue to try and resurrect and maintain friendships of the past in my present.

Was the world better with my absence? Was the loss suffered by all involved necessary?

My world is full of what ifs and every what if is accompanied by loss. Every day, I encounter a new loss to add to my ever growing list, but much of the reasoning behind it baffles me.

Not knowing the answers is the greatest loss of my trip.