Grief & Captivity
A dangerous combination.
By Elbonie Burnside
I recently lost a friend to cancer. We weren’t best friends, but we were close enough to know each other’s likes and dislikes, give well wishes, and explore unending possibilities about the future with one another. The cancer she was diagnosed with was a rare adrenocortical carcinoma.
Losing someone while incarcerated has its challenges, especially when there is the unnerving thought that the person’s passing would have been preventable if a better healthcare system was in place for our vulnerable population. The following question has been etched into my head since the date she was diagnosed: Could she have lived if the doctors caught it sooner? It seems to be a fair question—a common question considering the recent events.
Nonetheless, it is a question that has haunted my existence each day since her passing because I will never know the answer. In addition, I am not able to truly feel the emotions traveling through my body. Anger, sadness, confusion, and more anger are roads I continue to travel, but these are emotions I am not allowed to dwell on because my captivity captures not only my body, but also my mind.
Displaying vulnerability would give people with prying eyes the opportunity to take advantage of what they may consider weakness. Employees will view it as insolence, and disciplinary infractions will be issued if they judge your display of emotion to be out of compliance.
The reality is that true camaraderie isn’t allowed, nor is it supported; so, it comes as no surprise when there isn’t a commemoration for my dear friend. The observance of her life falls to her community instead of the institution. It makes grieving harder to endure.
How can a person truly grieve when the institution makes them incapable of experiencing their true emotions? I cope by eventually turning to myself, completely comfortable with isolation and pray the feelings I am restricted from displaying do not have a lasting effect that can alter my own mental health and existence.
I have come to realize that captivity and sorrow have the potential to be a dangerous mixture.
