Truth is NEVER a clear story.

No one ever really has all sides of the story, because they can only see a situation through their OWN eyes.

For many years I thought that my parents objected to my husband because he is a black man. Then decades of persistently trying to rectify my relationship my dad told me his objection was to our "ages more so than color, and the hardships that both would bring" to our lives.

Not telling me or the family the REAL reason left a rift of hatred in my brothers hearts. A hatred they hold to this day, but which I will not return. My heart still holds an unconditional love for them, and always will. Should they arrive at my door they would be greeted with hugs, open arms and forgiveness. Why forgiveness because, you cannot make decisions on partial information. They learned to behave irrationally because the had incomplete information.

This is my family. A family of long broken connections. Connections broken by misunderstanding, and hatred born of that misunderstanding, a very one sided hatred.

My parents and grand parents gave my siblings and I some rules to live by: *be a person of faith. *be honest. *be respectful of others and animals at all times. *take responsibility for what you do, good or bad. *help others.

Lessons which I tried to incorporate into my being. When I moved away to school I met a wonderful man who had all the characteristics and values of my father. We met over music and a common interest in the medicinal arts.

Darrell became my tutor, then friends, then a couple. Suddenly after a night of impulse, we became parents. Neither of us had finished school and we were unmarried. After many long hours of discussions we decided to keep the baby while finishing school.

We told Darrell's parents were not happy with us, but accepted our decision. They were not supportive at first but helped us where they could.

Then I told my parents. They were not as understanding. They had met Darrell in the past, knew he was respectful, responsible, that he would not abandon me with a baby and no man. Dad pointed out to me that Darrell was neither " white no polish", asked me to "CHOOSE between Darrell or my family. Stop dating Darrell and give up the baby, and I could stay." When I said I would "choose my baby", Dad asked me for my keys, and told me to "NEVER contact the family ever again." He then changed the locks and the phone number. Out of respect for my father, most of my relatives followed suit.

That lasted for many years, with the exception of the very few who seemed to understand my decision. I understand they were acting in respect of a man who could not reverse a decision because his pride would not permit him to. But in his dying days, Dad and I were able to speak. He knew I had only Love in my heart for him, and held no ill feelings toward him or mom.