Monday 18 June 2012

Happy Fathers' Day?

For quite a while now I've been contemplating blogging. On Saturday 16 June 2012, the eve of Fathers' Day, the impetus I needed to start writing happened upon me.  It was a poignant, tear-pricking, chord-striking moment.

I was on a pre-planned visit to London with a dear friend, unaware that it was Trooping of the Colour in the Queen's Diamond Jubilee year.  I was aware, however, of the Fathers4Justice march from the Olympic countdown clock in Trafalgar Square to Downing Street.  I cannot put hand on heart and say I support everything that Fathers4Justice do, but I can state that  I follow news of their campaigns closely.  I may not agree with all of their statements and all of their actions - but I firmly believe in a child's right to a close, loving, appropriate relationship with both parents and their wider families - irrespective of the relationship between those parents.

I count myself as fortunate and lucky: I have an amicable separation with my former partner - and my children enjoy a "normal" relationship with us both.  Neither of us would contemplate frustrating any contact with the other.  Our children can be with each of us, as and when they wish - they can talk to us, telephone us, email and text us whenever they choose.  We both share daily routines and special occasions with our children.  We both share their excitement, their disappointments, their normalities and their out-of-the-ordinaries.  It wasn't until I met my dear friend and his daughter that I realised this isn't always so.

I witnessed at first-hand a young girl who enjoyed her dad, who openly showed her affection and love towards him, who laughed and cried with him, who hugged him.  A young girl who was manipulated, taught to hate, to denigrate, to deny - to ultimately reject her loving father and become estranged.  A young girl, I can only presume, who could no longer manage the emotional stress involved in trying to maintain both relationships in the face of such hostility. 

When my friend expressed his wish to witness the F4J march - I was happy to accompany him.  When he decided to join the march, I walked the route and waited for him.  To be truthful - few people I passed along the way showed any interest in the rally.  Few seemed to question the purpose, the cause, the issues at play.  Most people just went about their day, enjoying their visit to Whitehall on this day of celebration.

As I walked ahead of the march, returning from Downing Street to Trafalgar Square, there was one man however, who was in clear distress.  His distress had nothing whatsoever to do with the F4J march.  This poor man was rapidly scurrying along a crowded Whitehall, clearly anxious and concerned, fretfully shouting "Harry! Harry!"  and again "Harry! Harry!" - again and again.  Much the same as the march, most people ignored him, showed no interest.  Whatever his problem, his issue, it was nothing to do with them.  Just one woman pushed forward and asked - "Are you looking for a little boy?" I could not keep back my tears.

In that one brief moment I was acutely aware of this dad's distress at losing his young son for just a few minutes - and profoundly aware of how magnified the distress, the loss, the grief of all those people taking part in that march.  All of them who had lost their child not just for a few moments - but for months, for years, for some - forever. Unlike that fretful dad so quickly re-united with his son - so many dads, including many on this march, faced yet another Fathers' Day full of sorrow, not joy. 


10 comments:

  1. Sue,
    Thank you for your heart-felt blog and your compassion and empathy.

    QV

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    1. QV

      I'm glad my compassion and empathy came through - because that really is the essence of me. It is those qualities which have somehow guided me to where I am now - training as a Counselling Psychologist. Hopefully, I will be able to use that compassion and empathy more directly working with families and children enduring the difficulties of family break up.

      Sue

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  2. Hi Sue, this was a hugely insightful blog on your part to have grasped the situation and make the comparisson as you did.

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    1. Thank you - I tend to just speak as I find. I didn't seek a comparison, as I said, it just happened upon me, and really touched me.

      Sue

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  3. Thank you Sue for your greatly needed support, i was in the march too & reading your blog has made me shed tears for the second time today. This is the first march i have ever been to in my life. I haven't seen my little boy for 85 days now ;-(

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    1. My heart goes out to you. Be as strong as you can manage and be the best you can be for your son. I hope that you are quickly re-united with him.

      Sue

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  4. An eloquent reflective account raising the importance of parental collaboration for childrens well-being.

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    1. Thank you Donna, though I can't help feeling "where is the support for children when parents are not able to collaborate?" To date I have found it to be sadly lacking.

      Sue

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  5. Sue I thank you for your reasonable thoughts towards fathers and coming to see that we are not all potential violent monsters, not that you thought we were. I leave here a poem I wrote that depicts how fathers are made to feel which is so very worthless, but really we are not, it may put you in the picture even more, Paul.

    I am a father, therefore I must be evil and a violent man, you need to protect my son from me, so go and seek that ban.

    I am a dad, therefore I am dispensable, the courts have agreed and say it's highly sensible.

    I am a cash-point, therefore I am a machine I have no feelings and downright mean.

    I am a sperm-donor, therefore not really involved, I gave it with no emotion, so the problem is solved.

    I am a male narcissist, therefore to fight is only for ego and ME, I care not for my child and hear not his plea.

    I am uncaring, therefore should have no rights, yes I deserve those bad dreams that wake me most nights.

    I am a monster, therefore should dwell in a cage, yes don't let my boy see my anger and rage.

    I am a robot, therefore void of affection or love, to feel for a child of that I'm above.

    I am a father, therefore only in name, but history will prove that it was you, Judge, that was truly insane.

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  6. I sincerely feel for you Paul, and for everyone who is prevented from having that most simple, yet precious, experience in their life - a loving, involved relationship with their child.

    Whilst "the establishment" may be gender biased and prejudiced, I can assure you that not all women view dads in this way. I like to think I treat everyone I meet without prejudice .... whoever they are.

    Sue

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