On Mother’s Day 2023, I couldn’t reach my son. It was intended that I shouldn’t know where he was, how he was doing, or what emotions, good or bad, he was experiencing.
Lyron wasn’t missing in the traditional sense — he was an adult. But he had been pulled away by someone he trusted. A close family member. A person fueled by spite. A master manipulator. I soon moved from being the one he loved, honored, and respected, to becoming the villain in a story that was never mine to write.
Every way I tried to reach him — blocked.
Every call, every message — ignored or intercepted. It was as if I had been erased from his world.
So I did the only thing I could that day. I wrote.
📓 The Poem That Started It All
I pulled out my notebook and began to pour out every tear, every ache, every scream of my heart in quiet ink. I titled it “A Painful Mothers’ Day” — because that’s exactly what it was.
It wasn’t a cry for pity. It was a cry for truth.
It was the raw cry of a mother who refuses to forget her child — no matter how grown he is, no matter how far he’s been led away.
That poem became my weapon — a declaration against every family member who told me to “forget about him, just move on.”
No.
I would never move on.
Not as long as I still had breath.
Not when I still had hope.
“I would never forsake the son of my womb — not now, not everrrr!”
🗽 Why I Moved to New York
The pain of separation led me to New York — not for a fresh start, but for a fight.
I fought through legal setbacks, silence, confusion, and the cruelty of lies.
Every door I knocked on seemed to close in my face.
Every plea for help was met with delay or indifference.
But give up? Never.
And when no one would listen to my story, I found another way.
📖 Beauty Waiting in the Shadows Was Born
I decided to make my story public — raw and real, like the pain itself.
If the world wouldn’t hear me, then maybe a book would them. This is all I have, my words, and no one would take that from me.
Beauty Waiting in the Shadows was born out of this fight — a novel inspired by truth, shaped by faith, and written with the hope that maybe… just maybe… it would reach him.
Or at least reach someone else who needed to know: You’re not alone in your waiting.
🎶 From Poem to Song: My Prodigal Son Comes Home
That original poem — A Painful Mothers’ Day — wouldn’t leave me.
So I decided to turn it into a song. I used Suno to create melody drafts, testing different emotional sounds. It wasn’t about being perfect — it was about being honest.
After generating several takes, I found not one, but two versions that moved me deeply.
Each with a different emotional feel. I didn't even know if that is accepted in traditional music publishing. I didn't care both of them would be published anyway.
So I released both:
“My Prodigal Son Comes Home” — hopeful, reflective, and deeply powerful
“My Prodigal Son Comes Home 2” — soft, mournful, full of longing.
And yes — the melodies were AI-generated, but the heart behind the lyrics is 100% mine. Every word. Every tear. Every prayer.
🙏 Anchored in Faith
Still, I haven’t seen my son.
Not yet.
But I’ve anchored my faith in the One who can change hearts, open eyes, and heal heartbreaks.
Like the father in the Bible, I wait.
Not in bitterness — but in hope.
I’m preparing the greatest feast.
I’m getting ready for the day I see my Prodigal walking toward me again. The day I get to embrace him again. That day I get to dry his tears.
And I want to take you along that journey with me — through the heartbreak, the healing, and the homecoming I believe is still to come.
With love and hope,
— Deann Scott
