My personal journey
It was Sunday, 05/25/2025. I sat in the room thinking. I was thinking about the way I had raised three of my six daughters. The day I received custody, I knew I had to change my life. In the beginning, I was a man who stayed in the street. But I knew that had to change. The responsibility of raising them was a challenge I was willing to take on. See, their mother was about to lose them to the State of Arkansas—but I could not allow my children to go through that. Before I obtained custody, I couldn’t hold down a job. But now I had purpose, I thought to myself.
I changed. God Almighty knew my heart and my struggle. He guided me to Walmart Supercenter. I went to the back and saw a middle-aged woman—Glenda Taylor, according to her name badge. I asked her if she was hiring, and she briefly got a little story out of me. Then she called the manager, Joe Hightower. She pulled him to the side and spoke to him. He interviewed me and gave me a start date and time on the spot. As I was leaving, he said, “Glenda told me she knew you, so I’m giving you an opportunity. Don’t let her down.” I looked him in the eyes, shook his hand, and told him I wouldn’t.
A few months passed, and I moved into the home of Kenya Phillips, who eventually became my wife. She accepted my children as if they were her own. And with her two children, we became a blended family. Their mother lived with my dad, and on weekends I would allow them to go to spend time with her and my father. I believe in family—and I always will, even when they don’t believe in me.
Our family was like any other. We had our good times and our bad times. I learned that children hate the word “No.” They think you’re the meanest person in the world. But I was the man, I was a dad, and I was a husband. After 8½ years, I walked out of Walmart. I had enough. I wrote my manager on her report: “Here are your keys and your walkie. I am gone, and I will not be back.” I had worked my way up to management at Walmart, but the management team didn’t treat me right, and I had to leave. But, I loved my district manager, James Phillips. He showed me what integrity was, and I remained loyal to him because he believed in me.
I left Walmart and went to the District Office to speak with James. I walked into the Zero Street Walmart and saw him sitting in his chair. When he saw me, there was disappointment in his eyes and concern on his face. I looked him in the eyes and said, “There’s no need for all of that. I was a man when you gave me the job, and I’m a man giving it back.”
He asked me what was going on in Greenwood, Arkansas. But I wasn’t going to speak negatively about my store manager, even though we had our differences. She was a good manager—just difficult at times. I told James, “I was just given a deck of cards with no chance of winning the game.” He asked, “What are you going to do now?” I told him, “I don’t know, but I’d flip burgers if I had to.”
I left the office and went to a temporary employment company, TEC. The only opening that they had was OK Foods. I returned to OK Foods—a place I had worked 10 years earlier. Some of the same faces were still there. People whispered behind my back, questioning why I was working there and not at Walmart. But I shrugged it off. It was none of their business. I came home every day smelling like chicken, and my wife would say, “Go straight to the bathroom and clean up—you stink!”
Two weeks passed, and I began searching online for better job opportunities. A government job came calling—they wanted to hire me. I had applied and interviewed months before and it had been so long, so I forgot about them. Honestly, I wouldn’t have thought about it again if not for a SNAP case manager named Jovonna Atkinson. During my interview with her, she told me I was educated enough to work in the office and gave me the state website, and I applied. The rest is history.
During this time, my relationship with my wife became strained. We separated. It was a horrible time in my life. I can’t place all the blame on her, but it hurt. I had been paid well at Walmart, and now I was earning less at OK Foods and with the state. We split amicably, but I still had love for her. Before she left, I asked her, “Are you sure you want to do this?” She said yes. I told her, “The grass isn’t greener on the other side of the fence.”
I was depressed. But I couldn’t let my children see that pain. I had to be strong for them. A single father. Huh.
Eventually, they grew up and moved out. They started having children and living their own lives. But I kept my doors open for them. Everything became different. I had two children still at home, my middle child and my youngest. I became more lenient, but I kept working. I still had to be daddy, no matter how old they were.
My youngest became pregnant in the 10th grade. I didn’t scold her—I embraced her. She was about to become a mother. Then she became pregnant again during her last year of school. It was tough, but I stayed by her side. I knew what the world would say, but I also knew the strength it took to carry life at such a young age. She needed love, not judgment. And as her father, I was determined to be her support—no matter what.
Man, so much has happened since they were little. My dad used to help take care of them, but he always got the money back from me. When I tried to pay him back, he’d only take half. He just needed to see I was serious about paying him back. We had our good and bad times, but he was my dad—my best friend. I had to see him or speak to him regularly. I tried to do that.
He passed away on Mother’s Day, May 10, 2020. A difficult time in my life.
Then, at 9 a.m. on June 2, 2020—three weeks after my father passed—I got a call from my second oldest child, telling me that my ex-wife, Kenya, had passed away. Although we were divorced, I still loved her. And in God’s eyes, she was still my wife.
It’s been nearly five years since they both passed. And now, here I am at this point in my life. I have people mad at me for no reason—listening to others and not even giving me the chance to speak for myself. I am not shy. I am not afraid to say how I feel.
I understand that my children have children now, but a simple text or phone call means so much. They need to mature and stop living in the past. If they have a problem with me, it’s on them. I will not let anyone steal my joy. But I am getting older. They can’t keep ignoring me.
At the time I need my family most, they’re too busy for me. Time is passing, and I know I won’t be here forever. I don’t want them to regret not talking to me. I feel abandonment and contempt. I sacrificed so much, and they didn’t realize it. All I hear are excuses.
One day, someone will relay the message that I have passed away.
They will stop what they are doing and rush to see me—but I will be nothing but a shell of what they once knew. Now they will want to see me. Family and friends will lament, and tears of guilt will flow down their faces. Regret will hurt more than the ill feelings they once held.
I heard this from a TikTok, and it is so true:
“In life, people do not cross the street to help you when you are alive, but they will travel from all over the world to bury you. A hard reality.”
I want them all to know—I love all of them the same.
Even when they are being stubborn and bullheaded.
© 2025 McArthur Williams. All rights reserved.
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