# When will I begin, my life again.....#
The letter in my hand, I made a decision. It was a spur of the moment thing. I am prone to these moments of madness. A bit like the impulse advert, sometimes I act, and think after.
A little reckless, I guess you could say!
I had never had any desire to get in touch with my Dad. Mainly because it had only ever been my Mum and me. Perhaps because the taunts I had from school friends about having no Dad had scarred me, perhaps because my Mum always blamed me for his leaving, perhaps because he had never been in touch.
I had seen photos of him. A long dark haired bearded man. The look of a Jack-the lad, carefree, but in essence a stranger. I felt nothing on looking at these pictures.
For some odd reason, I all of a sudden decided to write back to the Salvation Army. Yes my Nan could have my address, etc
Just like that, decision made. I kept this to myself for now. Things were unstable enough at home.
It was about a week later when a letter arrived from my Nan. A picture enclosed of her and my Dad. He was in a wheelchair. They were pictured with horses, a day out somewhere. The letter explained that she had watched me through playground railings after the break-up. She had then kept looking for me, but not found me. The reason my Dad used a wheelchair for long distances was a long term back injury. Gone was the long hair. In fact gone was all his hair! A bald little old man, insignificant. Still no feeling on looking at this photo.
This was all very alien, strange.
She asked in the letter could she pass on my details to my Dad.
I picked up a pen and paper and I wrote. I was 30 years old. 25 years of hurt tumbled out onto those pages. I was crying as I wrote, but it had to be said. Why did he go? How could he just leave? How could he live with himself after just walking away from us? Why had he never been in touch? Did he really think he could just walk back into my life now?
I admit it was a nasty letter in a way. I had to get that hurt out of me, I deserved my rant and I was jolly well going to have it. How dare he do this to me.
Signed, sealed, delivered. I felt a little smug as I put it in the post box. This is a feeling I have never felt before or since, as it is totally against my nature.
It was probably another week before I got a reply. This was to contain even more hurt.
He explained that my Mum had post-natal depression, she had pushed him to the limit. He had seen other women, stayed out at night to eacape this. He denied the house was ever repossessed or that he left us destitute. He had moved in near his Mum, in the space of a year, met someone else. She had 2 boys of her own from a previous marriage. On getting his divorce he had re-married and brought up these boys as his own. He claimed he had tried to get access but the court had refused.
Perhaps at this point you would sympathise? Side with him a little? Me, I was so angry that I wanted to slap him. I was there at the age of 5 with my Mum, I knew the reality of what we went through. above all it hurt so deeply that he picked up a ready made family and never looked back.
He had given a phone number for me to ring. At this point I felt i had to tell my Mum and husband. My Mum went ballistic. How could I go behind her back and believe him or want anything to do with him? She would not listen to reason as I tried to explain.
I picked up the phone and dialled his number. He answered "Alright darling" As if I was a long lost friend. I let him ramble on, very similar to the letters content. He invited me to meet him and the family. He was living miles away down South, I was then up North.
I made a decision to do it. I had to know. Either to put this to bed once and for all or pursue this other family.
I told my Mum I was going on a course, and asked my husband to back me up. This was because she was so unstable. He promised to look after my daughter, and seemed to uderstand I had to do this alone.
I remember him waving me off at the coach station, he has a strange look on his face.
Victoria Coach Station London, the coach pulls in after an arduous journey. I step off the coach. It was misty. Just like the scene from the Railway Children, there he is. He hobbled towards me. It struck me as hilarious that he knew it was me after 25 years! He hugged me so tightly that it hurt. No tears, no real emotion, but a strange connection.
We went to a cafe, chatted a while about anything and everything. He then drove me to his home. Along the way he explained one of his step sons had tragically been killed in a motor-bike accident, my other step brother was married, lived nearby.
Over the next few weeks we shared life stories, he kept up his side of the story. There were parts of this I definitely knew were untrue, as my Mum had shown me court papers.
I knew he had never ever requested access. I knew he knew where I was all along.
He had made the decision not to see me or even attempt to.
So what did I do? Did I finally stick up for myself? Did I challenge him? Would you?
No, I was numpty me, yet again. I listened, absorbed as he told me these lies.
I accepted him for what he was before me. A liar.
Those years will never be made up. He will never admit what happened or why. He is just my Dad. I will never have the same feeling as if i had been brought up with him. I really don't think he realises that to this day.
It was during this time, I rang home and my husband was as drunk as a skunk. My Mum was in the background, angry. He had told her where I was. Betrayal once again from him.
Why did I expect any different, he will never change. I knew my daughter was unsafe in this environment and I had to leave.
I made the decision, that was it, I was worth better and so was my daughter. I was going to go back up North and pick up my daughter and leave.
My husband however said to me on the phone you will never leave me....
# One day I'll fly away, leave your love to yesterday ....#
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