My dad’s stuff was gone. All of it. His clothes, shoes, brush, work files, everything. There was not a single trace of him anywhere; all that lingered was the faint smell of his cologne.
My mom and dad used to fight pretty often. And my elder brother, younger sister, and I got used to him disappearing for long periods of time but he always came back and earlier, his things used to always be there as a reassurance. But this time I felt it in my gut and my spirit that something was different. When my mom came back from work that evening, she told me that he was never coming home again. No reasons, no explanations; just, “Daddy’s not coming back.”
I was too young to know what heartbreak was at that time; in retrospect, I realize what I experienced then was heart-break; that dreaded feeling of someone holding your heart and squeezing. I had always been “daddy’s little girl”. We were three siblings, and people usually commented I was most like him. I had his smile, he had a unique ability to make people laugh their guts out, and somehow I had inherited that sense of humour.
Above all, I always felt he understood me. When my mother broke the news to us, instead of being angry with my dad for leaving, I was mad at my mom. I knew that it was her fault. I was sure that she drove him away. She was a great mother. Very creative, very intelligent, beautiful, hardworking, but she seemed so unhappy all the time. Dad on the other hand was carefree, loved life, and enjoyed joking around.
My parents never ever sat us down and explained why they separated. They didn’t even tell my brother and sister that they had separated. My brother was shipped off to a boarding school in North India a few months before they separated and my sister was told that dad had to look after our grandmother. I started to wonder why my mother only told me that they’d separated. Did she think I, a 10 year old could handle it? My dad no longer was given the right to simply drop into the home as he pleased.
He could only visit us for a few hours or take us out on Thursdays which was our school holiday. Christmases, Easters, and birthdays became weird. Every time my parents were in the same room there was an eerie silence. No one wanted to talk or say anything in case they said something wrong and a fight started. My parents were barely civil to each other. I think by now everyone in our building knew that my parents were separated but they would still ask us where he was. I remember always squirming and feeding them lies.
My teen years were the worst of my life. From the three of us, I became the most rebellious. I did badly in school, I even failed and had to repeat a class; I think it was Standard VIII. My mom and I always fought. I didn’t even want to see my dad that much. He would take us out and sometimes tell us to lie to mom. I hated that. I even hated it when people tried to cheat my mom when they knew there wasn’t a man around to protect her.
Many years, and counseling courses later I was able to get a deeper insight to my own behavior and my parents marriage. I always thought and pretended to myself that my parent’s marriage hadn’t affected me, but it did. I became a very sensitive child. If anybody spoke to me in a raised voice, tears would start swimming in my eyes. I suffered and at times still struggle with low self esteem and confidence.
I keep on doubting my abilities and capabilities. So many times when my parents disciplined me, they never did it in love; I often did not even know what I was being punished for. Though we did enjoy some fun times growing up, there was always that sense of doom for I always knew they’d never last and after the holiday they’d be back to screaming and shouting at each other. During my teens, I was in and out of love all the time and this is another area in my life that left me vulnerable and very broken.
As a child and teen, I faced terrible injustice but I could never tell my parents. I felt that they would just get angry with me and not believe me. So I would let it pass and simply cry into my pillow about it.
When the time came for me to get married I began to doubt whether I could have a successful relationship with anyone. But I did get married and have a great relationship with my husband. I have tried to deal with all my emotional baggage so that it doesn’t destroy my marriage.
Today I understand why my parents were so unhappy. My mother had to shoulder the entire responsibility of three children and try to balance work and home; my dad on the other hand seemed happy to be an absentee parent, not providing or caring for us. He seemed perfectly content to enjoy a yearly visit.
I wish I’d been more understanding and supportive and I wish they could have invested more of themselves in helping me discover my potential and talents and just being there for us.
Nothing can ever replace a parent’s love. And children really thrive in a happy home. More than toys and fancy holidays, the biggest gift parents can ever give their children is to love each other. One thing I’d like to leave with parents who are estranged from each other is to sit your children down and explain to them why it’s not working out. Avoid mudslinging and demeaning each other before your children, that is really scary and children feel forced to take sides; sort out your personal issues with each other privately and most importantly let your children know that you love them no matter what.
Till today, I do not have a clear idea about why my father left, and why he and my mother who are individually two such nice people, could not work it out. However, I also realize that one can go on blaming one’s parents and circumstances forever if that’s one’s inclination. On my part, I would say the wisest thing to do is to love and forgive your parents and continue to honor them, and to move on with your own life.
Above all, to promise God that you will use His grace and strength to ensure that your own family will be built on solid rock that will withstand whatever storm life chooses to throw your way.
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