Last night I called my wife, something I do every night, and we went through our extensive prayer list together. Five minutes after we hung up, I was alarmed to see a message left from her on the prison tablet asking me to ‘call home again’…  

I braced myself for the phone call.  

“Please sit down, Keith.”  Her next words pierced right through me as she read the Instagram post announcing the loss of David Inocencio, founder of The Beat Within. My heart tightened and the tears began to form.  Our last telephone conversation had been just weeks prior.  I had not spoken with David much this year, unaware he had been battling cancer, and hearing his voice was always uplifting.  He described to me where he was when we spoke that day, sitting on his patio, his soulmate Lisa was cooking him breakfast, and the sunshine was especially beautiful that day. I never imagined it would be the last time we would talk, yet I look back now at that conversation and see it for what it may have been.

David, a man that came into my life as a stranger nearly ten years ago, became more than just a mentor to me during a time of soul searching and longing to be more than what I had been much of my life; he became like a brother to me, someone I admired for all he was in the community and the world around him. I wrote a letter to The Beat Within ten years ago after reading an issue, not expecting much in return.  I merely wanted to give them a “shout out” for the outstanding work they do throughout California. David replied to my letter with personal recognition and praise for the work that I had shared with him regarding my own struggles and successes while incarcerated. I was touched by the fact that this man took the time to read my story, give me feedback and encouragement, and more importantly, see me as a human being who had experienced a tough life, rather than just someone who had lived life committing crimes and making poor choices.

I began sharing more of my story with David all those years ago, dedicating time and effort into providing artwork to TBW, and before long I became a recognized feature amongst the teens who would flip through the pages.  David would tell me how they would ask about me when he would visit the juvenile facilities, wanting to know when I was going to do another drawing.  It made me feel like what I was doing was bigger than just the time and effort of me putting my talents on paper. 

“Keith,” he said, “your artwork inspires these kids to sit down and see possibilities they never considered before.” 

I never saw the significance in what my art was doing until he said those words.  I wanted to give others something from my heart, yet I was missing the bigger picture all along.  David, my brother and friend, taught me how to see the bigger picture. I spent years of my life incarcerated in the local juvenile hall, and eventually the California Youth Authority at the age of fifteen.  I could relate to the teens that would write their stories, hopes and dreams in the pages of TBW publications. These young people, in every sense, were just like me and needed to be heard.  David, with no hesitation whatsoever, gave them a voice.

“Thank you for everything that you have done all of these years, Keith,” he said that last morning we talked.  “I love you my brother, and I am so happy that I got to hear your voice.”

Perhaps he knew something I didn’t know that day and wanted me to always know how much he loved and appreciated me. Despite all of our initial conversations, that one conversation felt more heartfelt and sentimentally sound than any other.  David always talked of me coming home one day, attending TBW workshops with him and Lisa, and I promised him we would have a nice barbecue with his family and mine once I earned the freedom that I’ve been fighting so hard for. 

“David,” I told him that morning, “you, too, have been a great part of my journey, and I love you and appreciate all the confidence you have in me.” 

There is never enough time to say goodbye, and even had I known it would be our last conversation, I would have never said goodbye to a man that will forever be present in my life, despite his passing. I grew to love this man with the better parts of me that he helped bring out over the years.

Earlier this year I was referred back to the courts for ‘resentencing consideration’ based on my accomplishments and positive changes to my life; David wrote a letter of support to the judge who will be making the final decision on my case(s) on any given date. I do not know what the outcome will be; however, I do know that even in his final days he displayed yet another act of compassion for me, and I will forever be grateful. I will walk out of these gates one day soon, I believe this wholeheartedly; and in spirit, the man that gave me a voice all of those years ago, as he has thousands of others in his lifetime, will be watching over me as I embrace my freedom for the first time in over three decades. Until then, I will continue to be the man David taught me to be through his own life’s legacy. 

My brother, my friend, I love you and will miss you…

For anyone who reads this – sometimes we don’t see the importance of others who are placed into our lives until they are no longer here.  Please take a moment to reach out to those you love dearly, let them know their presence in your life is more valuable than words can express… – Keith

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If his interaction with David Inocencio had something to do with creating that spark, David’s life will echo far beyond even his own reach in all those he touched who will carry on his spirit.

Keith Erickson is a writer, an artist, and a trail blazer, organizing and leading positive endeavors and initiatives. Keith has acted as the Chief Editor of the 4Paws Newsletter, he has earned an Associates Degree in Behavioral Science, and was also the illustrator of the GOGI Life Tools Coloring Book. Keith stays busy working during the day and facilitating programs in the evenings. He also hopes to have access to pursuing his Bachelor’s degree in the future.  
To hear more of Keith’s story in his words, listen to his Prison POD podcast.

Keith Erickson can be contacted at:
Keith Erickson #E-74907
Pleasant Valley State Prison
D-5-225
Low
P.O. Box 8500
Coalinga, CA 93210
Keith can also be reached through GettingOut.com