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Arcada Sue Smith (Lisalda) was born October 24th, 1955.

She was the mother of 5 children. Mary R. Delgado, Jonathan M. Ricardo, Pedro R. Ayala, Arcada Ayala Burchett, Sofia Ayala.

She was once married to Pedro Barroso Ayala (Who himself recently as of 11/2019 died like a dog on the side of the road after slamming into a rock wall in Columbia County Washington. Drugs and alcohol were involved.)

Arcada S. Smith Lisalda is also the sister of Elsie Beatrice Delgado, George Adrian Lisalda, Lester Smith and a brother who was nicknamed Butch.

Below is an excerpt/summary/paraphrase from an upcoming book that includes Arcada Sue Smith.

……When Arcada died, she was alone. Arcada had no friends and she was lost. Sure, she had some of her children near her side when she died, but to me it seemed like one of the most pathetic gatherings I had ever seen. Arcada was 3 times divorced and in some ways having raised more than 5 kids at the time of her death. Other than being the mother of children who otherwise did their own things in life, some doing much better than others, Arcada had nothing to show for having lived a turbulent and troubled life. Before me laid a woman in a hospital bed withering away into an abyss of possible nothingness. Every now and then, Arcada would seemingly gasp for a little bit of air, it was almost like she was trying to say something. I always knew she was afraid of dying, I think most of us are, but the look on Arcada’s face for the unknown moments before death took its hold was eerily intriguing to me. Her mouth quivered, small reflexes of movement would happen in her body. I was holding her hand not really paying attention to the other siblings in the room. I was somewhat paralyzed by the moments there next to Arcada knowing I would never see her again. Everything about her would become history. The sheer thought about that gave me serious self concerns and fears about my own life. Watching Arcada gasp or have a reflex caused me to panic. I had a horrible feeling that she was trying to say something out loud but couldn’t. Its like she was trying to say to anybody that would listen: “don’t let me go away”. I was afraid to let her go away. There was so much she needed to explain to me. Arcada was getting a free pass to me and I needed some answers from her. More answers than what she had already given me over the course of a few months previous to her final hospital stay.

It was late in the evening, and there was just me and two other siblings present at the final moment. From where I stood, I was looking at the grim face of a dying woman, I had known all my life. I felt such a loss. What kind of loss is a topic that spans many subjects and many years maybe. But in that very moment, I was looking at a woman seconds from death, deeply tired and worn down by life and its circumstances. Its eerie how slow time goes during such seemingly fleeting circumstances. Standing with a cloudy awareness and not really sure what it means to have your mother go away forever, I feel my mind begin to cloud over with flashbacks and emotions. I couldn’t help myself, I felt that even the worst memories I lived with Arcada became something I felt I would live through again if she just didn’t go away. I didn’t know what all of this meant. Arcada did so much to so many people and I personally felt like it just was not fair that she go away like this and just….go away from everything she did.

Years before, I had made myself a promise regarding Arcada. Regardless of the circumstances, I was determined to keep that promise too. Arcada was not a saint. Arcada was terribly troubled throughout her life. Arcada was taken advantage of in her life. Arcada was beaten by her ex husband Pedro Barroso Ayala. Arcada was lost. Arcada was a pedophile. Arcada had hurt so many people. Ever since I was a little boy, I was a notorious record keeper and never had to resort to lies and made up stories like other family members felt like they had to do. I was always armed with plain facts. Bold accurate truth. Regardless of how devastating, the honest truth was all that mattered to me.

While standing over Arcada and looking down upon her frail, tired and useless body, I leaned over and got close to her face…I stared for a moment into her half open eyes that were glazed over a bit. She was still alive and I felt with all of my heart that if I spoke to her, she would hear me. There were tears in my eyes, and I moved my face closer to her ear… I wondered if I should change my mind at such a delicate moment upon her called death. So much emotion running through my veins. I was filled with hate, love, sadness, joy, fear, empathy, sympathy and so much more. I had never shared my promise with anyone because I trusted nobody, not even the siblings around me. I had learned not to trust anybody years ago. I had seen what self serving greedy trash some people in my family had already been to me. But the joke was on them…all of them. Arcada knew it as well from a previous discussion she and I had at my home and then another talk while she was in the general hospital before her quick demise.

Knowing that patience and commitment was a skill forced upon me by life, I learned to accept it and then hone it sharper than a shard of glass broken from a 1940’s single pane window.

I took a deep breathe and then I leaned into my mothers ear and I whispered ever so softly the most powerful words I felt humanely possible. I did so more than twice for good measure.

It wasn’t but moments later and Arcada was gone. Dead and gone.
That was that. And now, I had promises to keep. And oh, since then I have truly enjoyed keeping them.
Interestingly, While sitting at my kitchen table once, some disgusting, horrible, non educated alcoholic trash once looked at me starkly and told me to my face: “your lonely and nobody wants you around”… the comment was obviously made with the intent to hurt me and keep me down while also showing me that I was obviously less powerful than them and that they “won”… at all that they did to me or others. I did my absolute best to hold in my laughter. Watching the trash feel like they got over on me actually made me feel good. It reinforced my undetected position. I calmly looked up and stared back at the trash who had no idea what my promises entailed, and that my personal commitments had began decades sooner and that I hold my commitments very well to the vest. Even by Arcada’s own admission, even at my lowest point, I was always better than the sinister trash before me. In my personal opinion, there really is nothing like throwing away trash on their own terms. Alas, Arcada was never really a good teacher anyways. But then again, unlike others did, I didn’t learn what I know from Arcada. And therein, was the eternal winning piece.

At first read, it would almost seem to the reader that I must feel like I am better than others… well, actually yes I am. Better at some things, not all things. Its not a wrong thing to be better than others at some things if you genuinely ARE better. If not, than you need to check yourself. But I learned years ago as a child that its best to keep what your better at to yourself. Thats how I stay a winner. When I think of Arcada, I think about how she desperately wanted to be better than others at something but unfortunately, as far as I know, she never was. Since childhood, I watched how Arcada groomed her other children to hate me and my older sister Mary. They were so young and didn’t even see it happening, but I did. Because I was standing right in plain sight as she said things to them about me. Which leads me into an abyss… its called Arcada.

As early as I could remember, Arcada was alone. Not necessarily physically by herself, but alone in the aspect of she seemingly felt “nobody understood her”. Arcada knew how to use that “loneliness” to her advantage and she would very often do just that. Arcada Sue Smith was a life long liar and a master manipulator who did anything she could to survive and get her way. And I, her oldest son clearly understood everything about her.

Arcada, my mother began molesting me at an early age. The earliest moment I remember it first happening was about the age of 3 years old.

To help the reader understand my life’s journey to obtain closure, I offer this in advance: in 1983 I was 3 years old. In 2016 Arcada Sue Smith/Davis sat and agreed to an in-depth tell all while at my home and another location over the course of a few days and during those sessions did apologize to my face for molesting me repeatedly as a little boy.