By Gerald Marshall

When I wrote my book 999489: From Foster Care to Texas Death Row, I poured a lot of pent up emotions into it; especially those by my mother!
I do not know this woman, but I love her so dearly. I remember times when she would come to the CPS visit and I would have the illusion that I would go one day to her and we would be a family. Instead, she would let me down again and again. Destroying any trust that I had in not only people, but especially women.

My mother wrote to me through a church six months ago. She wanted to come and see me. I was skeptical because I really didn’t want to be emotional around my mom. This is the one person who I am vulnerable around and I was afraid of being that watch her crying in my face. on the other hand I do not know my mother, her family; hopefully we could be a family.

I was excited to see my mother, then one day I received a letter in the mail that said that my mom had come up here and she didn’t set up a visit on the weekend. She just came with the lady who was coming to see me with her. They have to set up weekend visits by appointment first. I then received a letter from the lady who was bringing her up and she said that she would come back; I was excited. I wanted to see my mother.

Every weekend I waited, maybe they would come this weekend then another. I’d have my prison issued jumper ready to go out there, but time would pass; no visit would be scheduled for me. I couldn’t believe that she would not come, so I still held out hope, but then I was heartbroken.
I asked a friend to call the lady who was bringing her, and she did so. She stated that she saw my mother again and she was looking horrible and was back on drugs. Also that she was afraid to go into the place where my mother stayed and wouldn’t bring her while she was back on drugs. It broke my heart to hear this.

On June 10, I will take my mom off my visiting list for good. I’m sure that we will never have a relationship. I felt foolish for wanting to get to know her. For waiting for her to come see me every week and having her let me down again and again. I felt like the young Gerald I wrote about in my book. Helpless and heartbroken by the one person who is supposed to love me unconditionally.

I wonder why I allow this to affect me so much. I mean after all I’m 31 years old. She has been addicted to drugs all her life, yet and still I hoped that we would have a happy ending for once. I was not meant to be.

I told no one of my feelings this last few months because I didn’t want to feel weak or vulnerable to you all; the ones who care about me the most. But I have been somewhat emotionally unstable in my letters to you all and I hope that you all can now understand why. I have been trying to reheal my broken heart.


Gerald Marshall #999480