I don’t know about you, but I had this perfect plan in what concerns having a family and raising my kids.
I am a perfectionist by nature and when it came to start a family the ideal went on.
After a year of marriage I realised I hadn’t really made the right choice. But I had a baby in my arms and I was going to do everything in my power to make it work. My husband was a very committed father and that made me very happy.
For about 10 years there were plenty of downs and the ups were rarer and rarer. I am not going to give you details. Although those years were not terrible and I know there are people going through a lot more, those years were (I see now) the anticipation of what was about to be the final straw, that brought the inevitable divorce.
I fell out of love. I kept appearances for the sake of the kids…Yes, I went on having a second child. First because I always wanted to have two kids and second because I though my daughter should have a sibling.
The last two years were a proper nightmare of mistrust, controlling, tears, two strangers living in the same house. Me centered on the kids, he completely off them.
The happening happened. The happening that I dare not say, or describe. The happening, that people that know happened, tell me they thought it would happen only in films, not in our little town. The happening changed everything. To a point that he was forbidden to contact my kids.
And all of the sudden, my so not perfect life, was upside down. I was by myself, my blood pressure got back to normal, I started feeling sane, sleeping well, feeling happy. But my kids had no father. They still don’t. That parent got completely wiped out of their life’s and the struggle now is how to help them cope with it.
One of my kids is old enough to know what happened, but still she misses her dad. The little one almost doesn’t remember him, was not even two last time she saw him, but talks about dad all the time and just the other day asked me mum, do I have a dad.
I give them love, all the love and more. I give them boundaries, kisses, hugs, discipline, as I always did. But I see a melancholy in them, that something is missing and I think what should I say to them? I never speak ill of their father. I say it as it is. I highlight his qualities, speak about good times and when the little one asks where he is, I simply say he loves her, but he’s working, very far and can’t come and visit.
Pains me so much to have to even acknowledge his existence, let alone have to talk about him, to see their pain. Many times I feel terrified just thinking he still lives in the same country as us and someday he could just show up.
My kids’ dad. Absent parent.
I just want them to grow up to be balanced people.
I just wanted them to have a perfect, happy family. And I’m going to do everything in my power to make it happen.