Be My Guest: Shydel James



This week, I scoured the streets of Newark to find a guest blogger. Okay. I didn’t really. It was totally staged. Ha. I’ve known this kid since he was 14 years old. He was my student at Clifford Scott High School, (straight A’s. But a smart mouth.)

Shydel James has worked as my personal and research assistant for three years. For a decade, I’ve encouraged him to write–something he has a natural ability to do. He resisted. Went into acting instead. Which was cool. But I know a writer. And I know it’s his destiny. After years of transcribing my interviews, dealing with publicists and running my literary life, he began dipping his toe into the written word. And now, I want him to dive in.

Shydel is my heart. But as close as we are, I knew nothing about this story until last week when he pitched it to me.

I am so proud to have him as a guest blogger.

On Father’s Day, we ran a very sweet roundup of fathers who put in work and make their children proud.

Shydel has no such story. It’s a common story, alas. And one that I hope will provoke discussion.



Father Knows Best

By Shydel James

I had been fidgeting with the folded up paper in the back of my Lee jeans for over 30 minutes.

“You excited to see your father?” Grandma asked.

“Yup.” I said.

Grandma had dragged me out of bed at 5am so we could catch the first bus to Newark Penn Station. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon as Grandma, my two aunts, my cousin and I walked into the station, stepping over bums to catch our train.  When it pulled up, my cousin and I darted onboard, racing each other to be the first to sit in the window seat.  I won.  I stood on my knees, face smashed against the window, as the train sped to Rahway. Upon our arrival, there was a fleet of dingy, white taxis waiting out front.  We all piled into one and the driver took off without a word.  He knew where we were going.

When I stepped out of the car and walked inside, I was frisked, scanned with a wand and told to walk through the metal detectors.  After I strolled through without any beeps, a mole covered, fat lady in a light gray uniform ushered my family and I into an outside holding area that smelled of fresh grass and dirt.

Twenty feet high steel double doors that dwarfed my four-foot frame locked us inside the holding area. The armed guards with semi-automatic rifles, hovering over the barbed wire, looked like life-size versions of my G.I. Joe action figures back home.

And then:  a loud, shrieking noise accompanied by a flashing red light.

The huge steel doors slowly began to open and my adrenaline started to race.

Grandma grabbed me by the hand and we all flocked into the prison courtyard where the inmates were waiting for their visitors.

Children ran into the arms of their fathers. Wives and baby mothers straddled their husbands, boyfriends and baby daddies, planting deep, passionate kisses onto their lips.

“He’s over there!” my aunt yelled, pointing to my father.

We frantically waved him down and he walked over to us.

There he was. The man everybody called Butchie. He was short, slim and sharply dressed.  (In the 80’s, prisoners were allowed to rock street clothes during family visits.)  His swagger was cool and nonchalant.  His walk had a dip to it. He strolled like he was walking down the street a free man and not across the prison courtyard as a convicted felon.

He gave his sisters, mom and niece hugs and then kneeled down to give me a hug and kiss on the cheek.

“Look at you!” he said admiringly.

“Here’s my report card,” I said as I yanked it from my back pocket.

He unfolded it and smiled.

“Straight A’s?  Check you out!”

I beamed.

“Keep up the good work.  I don’t want you to end up like me.”

He stood back up and began introducing me to his prison friends.

“This is my son” he said proudly.

As his prison buddies circled around me, smiling in amazement at how much we looked alike, I couldn’t get his words out of my head.

I don’t want you to end up like me.

What did he mean by that? Why wouldn’t I want to end up like him?  Had he done something wrong?

I was only 5. I didn’t understand what it meant to visit someone in prison.  All I knew was that I got to ride the train, see the men holding the big guns and hug my father.  That was good enough for me.

But then the prison visits stopped.

They started shuffling him from jail to jail, which made it harder to visit. And aside from the obligatory birthday card and random phone call, I never heard from him.  To this day, I still don’t know why he didn’t keep in touch.

My mother eventually divorced him and her relationship with his mother fell apart. She did, however, manage to keep a good rapport with his father, who stepped in as the positive male role model in my life.

My grandfather would come to pick me up every weekend.

“You ready?” he would mumble, cigarette seesawing on every syllable.


I hopped in the car and off we would go.

My grandfather was a man of few words, but our adventures together were always fun and eventful.

He’d take me to the barbershop to get a fresh cut. Then we’d hit up the ice cream parlor for my favorite: vanilla ice cream in a cup with rainbow sprinkles.  Along the way, he would sit me on his lap and let me steer the car, while he worked the pedals.

We never talked about my father.  But the older I got, the more I wondered why he was jail.

“What did my father go to jail for?” I asked my mother one night over dinner.

“Butchie made some really bad choices when he was young,” she said without skipping a beat.  “So now he’s paying for what he did.”

Before I knew it, we were talking about something else.

A couple of weeks ago, I stumbled across the New Jersey Department of Corrections webpage. The words “OFFENDER SEARCH” caught my attention.  You could plug in any name and find out their entire rap sheet. I hesisitated. Came this close to just clicking the little X and leaving that page entirely. Did I want to know what was there? Did I need to know?

Yes, I did.

Father Knows Best[2].doc

Seeing it on paper made me feel small and embarrassed.

The man who did all of this is my father.  And it’s online as a public document for the world to see.

Now I know why my mother skirted around the issue.

He was released from custody in 1997. I didn’t hear from him.

The same year he was released from custody, Grandma called me up out of the blue to have lunch with her.

“Your father wants to establish a relationship with you,” Grandma said

“Okay. What’s stopping him?” I asked.

Grandma raised one eyebrow and shot me her okay-now-watch-your-mouth look. But she couldn’t mask her own confusion.  Even she didn’t know.

“Well…he’s still getting himself together.” She mustered.

For ten years, he’s sent various family members to make the connection.

My aunts: “Your father was asking about you the other day. Have you seen or spoken to him lately?”


Next up: My uncle.

“Man, I spoke to Butchie.  I told him he gotta connect with you.  You heard from him?


More years passed. He did not attempt to contact me.

He failed miserably at an attempt to bridge a connection with me at my aunt’s birthday party in 2006.

It looked like he’d packed on a few pounds. His stomach poked out behind his argyle sweater.  His face was stressed and had hardened over the years.

We had been in the same room for 20 minutes without saying a word to one another.  I was on one side chatting with relatives; he was on the other side talking with friends.  As soon as I thought I would be able to make a clean getaway with out an awkward exchange, he walked up to me with a nervous smile on his face.

“Don’t you wanna buy your father a drink?” he asked.  “I don’t have any money and would love to have a father/son drink with you.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” I asked.  “Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

He was speechless. I walked away.

This past Sunday, on Father’s Day, I thought about it.  Should I call him?

I’ve missed out on having a relationship with my father my entire life.  I could break the cycle by picking up the phone and inviting him out for that father-son drink he seemed so eager to have at my aunt’s party.

I sat down with the phone in my lap, his number in my hand.

And I made my decision.

What would you have done?


Shydel James is an actor/writer based in New Jersey, but prefers to say New York City since he lives 20 minutes away and it sounds glitzier.

He currently shares a co-writing byline with Aliya S. King in the very last issue of KING magazine.  He’s also a frequent contributor to Upscale magazine.

When he isn’t memorizing monologues, or hunched over his laptop writing a story, he’s embracing the social media reform that’s sweeping the globe.  Check him out at

After Party

Dear readers: Shydel did not call his father. And he has no plans to. Ever. Should he? Should he at least hear this man’s side? I feel like Butchie did try to reach out at the aunt’s party.But maybe he should have just said, hey can we talk. But maybe Butchie has his own issues to work with? I wonder how Shydel will feel if his father passes away and he’s never gotten the chance to just ask: Why?

Then again, I can’t even imagine the pain Shydel must have endured. Growing up with a father who has been out there in the world, communicating with other family members. And not manning up and getting in touch with his own son. A part of me feel like if Butchie’s not ready to a make a mature step to reach out, maybe Shydel is better off?

Ugh. I think I want Shydel to call him. Or not.

What do you think?

Shydel and I would  love to hear from you…

35 Responses to “Be My Guest: Shydel James”

  1. Jordan cagle Says:

    Whether shydell should call his father or not is up to him. I have a situation similar to shydell’s but I feel as if it is my fathers responsibility to reach out to me . Shydell’s father mad the choice to commit crimes knowing the consequences but obviously didn’t care enough about himself or his lived ones and most importantly his son . So why should Shydell be the one to try and mend things when he was the one “abandoned”? He mad it this far without him so I say HELL NO, don’t call him ! You’ll make it without him!

  2. slb Says:

    i think shydel should do what’s in his best interest. as someone who did make the choice to “let my father be a part of my life” when *he* was ready, i’ve learned–many, many years later–that when a father is unable to or decides not to be a part of a child’s life at the onset, his decision to connect will always be on his terms, not the child’s.

    i know there are exceptions, but fathers who return do so to absolve themselves of guilt/shame. and when they come to you and “want to be a father,” they mean they want to be what *they* think a father is–not what you, as the child, think a father is.

    then, when you complain about their inattention or their self-absorption or when you mention all their years of absence, they get to play the martyr and say, “i tried to be there for him/her now, but she/he won’t even give me credit for the effort. better late than never! at least i’m trying!”

    it’s maddening.

    i will say that i don’t regret connecting with my father. i love him; he’s a sweet person, mostly. sometimes, he’s a decent friend. we have fun together. i’ve learned from him. but he’s not a good father. and he continues to make excuses for why he wasn’t around–and it’s never, ever (entirely) his fault.

    shydel is allowed to make the same decision his dad did, not to stay in touch or reconnect, and no one should make him feel guilty about that b/c only *he* has to deal with the complicated, wound-opening emotion of allowing this dude he barely knows into his adult life.

  3. dkwatts Says:

    Unfortunately, it took my paternal grandmother getting sick for me to make that call to my dad.

    BTW – I definately would have walked away, too.

  4. crystal Says:

    as an adopted girl, i often wished for a reunion–any reunion–with my biological family. as a kid i’d imagine that my dad and mom were in jail. incarceration was the only reason my 5-year-old mind could come up with that would justify them leaving me. i’d imagine a reunion like the one described above, complete with the guards’ guns and my parent’s glory and the report card.

    keep writing, shydell

    p.s. aliya, i will mini-stalk you at astor place one day. :-)

  5. crystal Says:

    i typed the above comment quite quickly and am ashamed at the typos and errors!!! forgive me! proofreading should prevail.

  6. Doug Says:

    Well Part of me want to say!” call him” Del. Then I think to myself NAH if his father was really tryin to make a connection with his son like the family, says. He would have reached out to his son. But I guess Butchie Ego!!! wont let him make the first move.

  7. Kiki Says:

    This story is truly heart felt. I am sure it was hard for you to have grown up to be an successful man without your father’s help. He missed out on a lot and will continue to do so. Hats off to your mom.

  8. kanisia Says:

    I’m not sure what I think he should do. My father wasn’t always in my life, but I made the attempt to be in his life i took the first step. Which kind of helped our relationship out. I didn’t call him to say Happy Father’s Day bc I don’t think he deserve that kind of praise yet.I even avoid calling him dad. I address him as yo son something like that.I decided to take things slow. Which is making the relationship a little better.

  9. Abina Says:

    I know I should say that he should’ve called, but I support his decision not to regardless of his reasons. Reconnecting with a parent under circumstances like Shydel’s is difficult. My father wasn’t in jail but he disappeared when I was 6, popped up when I was 15 and brought all sorts of hell with him. In the end I realized that not knowing him was better for my mental and emotional stability. That’s the reason I support Shydel’s decision. Maybe he figured that establishing a relationship with his father wasn’t worth it.

    Btw Aliya, your father’s day post made me cry like a 5-year-old whose candy was taken away from her. Darn you and your tear-jerking posts. Lol

  10. TIERRA226 Says:

    Umm… I think he should call him. I was placed into foster care with my sister at 7, after being raised by my mother’s foster mother (it’s a cycle that I’ve broken with my own kids…). I didn’t know anything about my biological parents but random childhood memories: a Christmas, my father dropping clothes by, etc. As I went from home to home, my mother would call me and my sister. She’d ask us questions about the place and our care. When I was adopted at 13, my adopted parents stopped all contact with my mother b/c they were raising not only me and my sister but another one of my siblings my mother had. Because I was of age to know who my biological parents were, I always promised myself I would find them. And 3 years ago I did. Strangely I didn’t have any hostility towards them. They still had the substance abuse problems that led to my foster care placement. Fast forward ( b/c this is getting long) my father died a year after I reunited with him from alcohol poisoning and my mother od’d 2 weeks ago. Did I have all my questions answered? No, but I established some kind of relationship with them and they both got to see their blood carry on. *Sorry I typed this on my cell phone :)

  11. jovi Says:

    Great story, tough decision.

    My father was around but not in my life. He made promises that he never kept and I still don’t like him for that. One day I will ask him why he lied so much about what he did for me and my sister.

    My mother passed away almost 7 years. Since then he has called me almost every Sunday to say hi and to check on my girls. Most of the time I don’t answer the phone and if I do it’s a real short call. He called this past Sunday and I never said Happy Father’s Day. Honestly I forgot it was father’s day but made sure I called my grandfather, the real man who took care of me.

    Because he was around I knew his character and that’s why I don’t care for him. Shydel – you don’t know him or understand his struggle so for closure you may want to find out. If you find that the he has a poor excuse or had a hard life, that may change how you feel about him. Wanting to know why would stress me more then knowing the facts.

  12. Anonymous Says:

    Call him. My husband just lost his father a couple of months ago. They had a strained relationship and they had not spoken for years. The years that they did speak were tense and lacked a lot of love and forgiveness. My husband got to speak to his father once on the phone before he passed away. He barely got to say “I love you” before the phone card ran out.

  13. Yolonda Says:

    Honestly, I feel Shydel’s pain. I grew up in a very similiar situation with my Mom. No she wasn’t in prison but “imprisoned” by her own mental insanity. Because of that, I do not talk to my mom at all. When I communicate with my maternal grandmother, I hear how she is doing and that is enough “contact” for me (I am sure my grandmother tells her how I am doing too).

    As you can read, my opinion is a bit biased. I don’t think that Shydel should reach out to his father. It is his father’s responsibility to reach out to Shydel. One time at his aunt’s party or thru other relatives is not enough. The communication should be man-to-man.

  14. P Says:

    I think he should have made the call. Similar to Shydel, I had a relationship with my dad’s family, but not really my dad growing up, difference is, he wasn’t incarcerated. My parents both made a conscious decision (for whatever reason, convenience on both parts I suppose) to not have him be a part of my life. They both moved on and established other lasting relationships, but I was caught in this constant state of limbo. Similar to another commenter, I didn’t really get a chance to start building something with my dad until his father passed, and it’s definitely still a work in progress.
    It took my grandfather’s passing and me being grown to get a chance to build a relationship, albeit a rather precarious one. If Shydel can create an opportunity under better circumstances, I think he owes it to HIMSELF to do so. His father may not be strong enough to reach out, but Shydel shouldn’t let that stop him from doing so. I think that he can still learn a lot from his father, maybe not necessarily a lot of “life lessons” but at least about his own family and I’m sure himself.

  15. Mish Says:

    AWESOME story! This is definitely a tough one. No matter how old you get, you expect for your parents to still act and approach every situation as the elder, as the parent. But more and more I’m learning that as children sometimes we need to check our parents, let them know, look you F-ed up big time and I need you to understand that. I kinda would like for you to call and maybe have some closure in all this. Not saying call to pretend like nothing happened and just start a relationship like father and son, but just to maybe give you a piece of mind and understanding of where he’s been, (besides jail) why he’s made certain choices in life, and why has it been so hard for him to reach out. I say make the call so you don’t ever have to feel any regrets in the future. I think he owes you some explaining. And maybe you have to go out and get that explanantion…but this is definitely a rough and tough one. :-) But whatever decision you make, I know it was made after well consideration for your feelings. And at this point, hey, I guess your feelings are what really matter now. He took his feelings out the equation when he took himself out of your life.

  16. Taure Cleveland Says:

    I would never say to someone if they should or should not call their father. It depends on how you truly feel! If you felt that you wanted to have some sort of relationship with your father, than you do that. For me, I think it took my father being on life support for those breif day to realize that I wished I had a better relationship with him after my paretns got divorced. He was more of a financial supporter that we would call when we needed money. Outside all of the material things, I still wished he was around for more than just that. I think Shydel could possibly consider that-not wait until something tragic bring you two together, but come together on your own terms when you both can communicate in a fashion that you and he can understand what happened to your relationship.

  17. Jackie H. Says:

    I wrote about my great dad on Father’s Day, but I also mentioned that his father wasn’t in his life…they only met once, and my father said he never wanted to see him again so I understand why Shydel feels the way that he does…However, on Sunday, I asked my father if he knew whether his father was alive or dead…he couldn’t tell me…I assume he is dead because all of my other grandparents are…but to not know if you own father is dead or alive…wow, that’s sad…I want to say call, but then again, who am I to give advice when I haven’t had that experience…

  18. Brenda Says:

    I think Shydel should call him. That way he can ask any questions that he’s had all of these years and get whatever he’s feeling off his chest. I know it’s tough – but I think it’s harder being left with a lot of “what if’s?” throughout your life. There’s nothing like having some closure.

  19. AUNT LAWANA Says:


  20. Ka Says:

    Hi Shydel!! Fellow Scottie here using a different name. I think that as we grow into ourselves and recognize our own fallibility, an empathy for the mistakes our parents made can develop. Oftentimes our parents want to reach out but they really have no idea how to; but we, the younger more enlightened and emotionally expressive generation, can bridge that gap. Try and see if you can do that with your dad. All the best.

  21. clove Says:

    Is Shydel single?

    Sorry, just wondering

    Seriously, I always feel like a man should at least reconcile with his absentee father, if not to establish a bond to at least bring closure. But of course both parties have to be ready and mature enough to have that very tough conversation. My father was in my life for the most part but I wasn’t really close with my parents and my dad went to prison as well for a few years for embezzlement when I was in middle school. So I know the pain and confusion of visiting your dad in jail and wondering what he did wrong and why.

    I think he should call him. when he’s ready. but before it’s too late.

  22. G Parker Says:

    Wow! This story is Real not rare but Real so I want to keep my response short if I can. A friend of mine that I to my church grew up much like Shydel. He beat the odds of his situation and Graduated College, married and has two kids. One day he told me that he was at church and pondering on finding his father so he could tell him how well he was doing. His Pastor happened to see him (in deep thought) and ask him was everything alright. He told the Pastor His delemma and the Pastor gave him this advice. What do you expect from him when you find him and tell him? Because you probably wont get what your looking for. My friend said he thought to himself I don’t know and then He realized That he still wanted affirmation from his father. My friend said at that point he forgave his father and moved on because God already affirmed him and he became all that he wanted from his dad to his children.

  23. Rasheem Kilo Pugh Says:

    My Dad lived the exact life. From the projects to jail as soon as i was born and when he came home he had 3 more kids, he took care of them but not me. While growing up my mind set was screw him. But once i became a man with all my successes and failures and had my own children i learned it was his lost,i forgave and continued to raise my kids right. I do speak with him but not that often,he cant talk to me long because he feels stupid,bragging to his friends my son is a Grammy winning songwriter,yeah without your help (Loser!),i always say to myself. I forgive him because he only hurt himself with his decisions but I never forget. This article makes me think of Naughty by Natures song (Ghetto Bastard) Treach line ( Never knew my Dad Mother f*^%# the fag) lol…. You should call him and let him know how well you’re doing without his ass! We need the corse the gave back in Africa,the Man hood corse where you couldn’t have kids or get married with passing the corse and becoming a man. Excuse my anger,but you get tired as a Black man to keep being classified as being part of a weak group of beings when posses Greatness now and through out history,ok im done. ha

  24. Nick(Chi) Says:

    I can write a book on THIS ONE……only Del Shy (as I call him). I feel you 120% & not minimizing your situation, but at least “Butchie” was behind bars. My “whatumahcallit” lived 7 minutes away and I can count on one hand the times I saw/spent with him! The times he did come around he thought that money will be equivalent to his duty and at 10 yrs. old I remember telling him” I don’t want your money, I want you to be apart of my life.”He always knocked my uncles “back in the day” for what he’s in jail now for (1st offense) at 49 yrs. of age…really, who does that?
    So saying all that, I think you should be the ADULT in this & call him and/or meet with him (face to face) just to see what “excuse/reason” he has for not building a relationship with you. Not saying it would change anything considering where you are in life,but at least you both will know where the other stand. Could go on but I’m sure you dig the drift…STAY UP

  25. flamboyantchiq Says:

    If your father would have not gone to jail, would you guys have had a relationship?
    If the answer is yes. Then you should call.

    I have two kids and if i made a dumb decision that kept them from me for twenty years, I would have no idea how to beg them to forgive me. I would only pray that they would find compassion in their hearts and allow me to love them.

  26. kilvin Says:

    Mr. James,

    If your father were to die today, would you go to his funeral? If the answer is not ‘no’, then you should consider reaching out.

    Just like you wouldn’t be going to the funeral for him per se, you reaching out wouldn’t be for him either.

    Very nice piece.


  27. Pam Hill Says:

    Every person has to make their own decisions that they can live with. I can only say as a person who has lost both parents that once they are gone, there is no second chance at anything. You cannot ask them any questions, you cannot tell them how you feel, they may never know how you feel. The life experiences, whether good or bad in our memories, shaped us into who we are today. I remember when you were born and Shydell, you turned out to be an awesome MAN… surrounded by family that loves you. If your father chose to miss out on a relationship with you growing up, it will be his loss forever. If you believe in God, you have to believe that He has our best interests at heart. It may have been in your best interest to not have him in your life during your developmental years where you may have been easily influenced. You may never know the reason why things happen, but you have to let go of the past and believe that some things happened for the best. He may never be the father that you want him to be. He may not know how to be a father. I say that you can make the call to keep the lines of communication open. That way if anything ever happens to him, your heart is clear that you tried and you won’t have to replay in your mind for the rest of your life, WHAT IF…

  28. Honey Says:

    I agree with everyone else, the final decision is up to Shydel.

    But I think Shydel should call his father – even if it’s to scream and get everything off his chest. Have a good catharsis if you want.

    I have a friend who had a similar situation as you (their father wasn’t in jail, he just wasn’t part of his sons life)

    The father got ill and tried to reach out to his son before he passed, but the son refused to speak to him even though he had his phone number.

    When the son finally decided / thought about calling his father, his father passed away and it was to late.

    This was 4 years ago. The son has gotten over it, but once in a while he would express how he wished he would of gotten closure – tell his father how he really felt.

    So even if you don’t want to have a relationship with your dad, it maybe good to at least let him know how you felt about him not being a dad and not reaching out to you.

  29. Megademus Says:

    This touched a nerve with a few people I see.

    I think Shydel should call. It seems his father WANTS to reach out. Even if ego and embarassment are in the way. Get that one conversation out of the way and take it from that point. If it does not work at least a true opportunity was given to connect.

    I never had a relationship with my father, my parents divorced before my first birthday. I know very little about my father. My first and only communication with my father was in college( I needed money for my last semester). I wrote him and I asked why he was not in my life, “what Happened?”. He wrote back and basically blamed my mother for him leaving. The woman who raised me for self. At that time I was feelin’ some kinda way.

    Now if I knew that he wanted to speak and try to connect I would at least call him. Its all peace. If he wants to rap just let me know.

  30. Nonee Says:

    Hey Nonee! Life is what “you” make it and you have done very well thus far w/o Butchie. Oddly enough, I’m actually on the fence with this though because my ego, pride, and pain would say “It is what it is” and keep it movin but as I’ve matured I have gained empathy and learned how to forgive those who have hurt me. Hurt people hurt people. If and when you decide to muster up the strength and tolerance to call and converse with him find the root of his misguided decisions which will in turn give you understanding of his destructive behavior that has affected you. I hope anyway. I support you regardless of what you decide to do. Know that one thing he did do right which was help create you. ;-) Good job! I’m very proud of you! Luv my Nonee!

  31. Tee Says:

    I think Shydel should contact his father. No I don’t know his pain, but it seems that his father did try to reach out at his aunt’s party…Sometimes people don’t say the right things or the things we think they should say…Maybe after contacting his father he will realize that he was better off without him..My husband’s father wasn’t around and shortly after he and I met he reached out to him because he was dying..Being young and carrying the pain of a child being disappointed so many times by his father, my husband chose not to meet with his father…He died a short time later. My husband was young and, and his rationale was why should I meet with him to make him feel better since he is dying. Now that he is older he regrets that decision but there is no re-do.

  32. Nonee Says:

    Hey Nonee! Life is what “you” make it and you have done very well thus far w/o Butchie. Oddly enough, I’m actually on the fence with this though because my ego, pride, and pain would say “It is what it is” and let’s keep it movin but as I’ve matured I have gained empathy and learned how to forgive those who have hurt me. Hurt people hurt people. If and when you decide to muster up the strength and tolerance to call and converse with him, find the root of his misguided decisions which will in turn give you understanding of his destructive behavior that has affected you. I hope anyway. This is if you want to know “Why” at this point. I support you regardless of what you decide to do. Know that one thing he did do right which was help create you. ;-) Good job! I’m extremely proud of you and proud to call you my BFF! Lol Luv my Nonee!

  33. Robyn Says:

    I hate that the responsibility seems to be falling on him Shydel.

  34. rita king Says:

    Del – I am speechless!!! What a great, great story. You are an excellent writer as well. I am so proud of you. I have to think about a suggestion for your situation. love you.

  35. Tesha Says:

    Wow….I am so lost for words… this story was AMAZING… Shydel, i can see writing is ur PASSION. God has blessed u with an amazing gift… I think that in this one story, YOU have said what so many have been holding in…you just said what millions, im sure, have been dying to say…YOU my friend , are truely an INSPIRATION..

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