See You in Two Weeks, Daddy.
My wife finally left my house before Christmas, so I have had a month to adapt to being an estranged husband and detached father; it’s not what you expect when you get married. My three sons stayed with me over the weekend and when I dropped them at school on Monday morning, my eldest waved me off saying, “See you in two weeks, Daddy.”
I think he meant it as a salutation, a positive recognition that he would return with his brothers to my house in the near future, but to me his innocent farewell had a sense of finality about it, a sense that family life is now absolutely over and that hence forth I will see my sons, the core of my life, for only six or nine days a month.
Even though I have been anticipating this, it is a stark change. For the last seven years, I have been with my boys all the time in the evening and at the weekend. I have helped them through infancy to childhood, played their games, started them reading, and started them playing sport, put them to bed, and been there for them in the morning and at any time in the night when they needed me: I have been their father, their mentor.
Now I am an occasional feature in their lives. My wife seems to have finally accepted the responsibility of motherhood, although she still substitutes me with her own mother when it is expedient for her to do so. The boys seem to have adapted well with no apparent stress and that is a blessing, something to console me, although my eldest asked me if I could buy a house in the same place as them so he can come see me every night.
I had to avoid the truth that his mommy has taken all my money and I will have to live in a shed. I have had no acrimony over the split; she simply moved out one day and took the boys with her. They looked back at me, a little confused, and I had to smile and pretend it was a normal thing to do. But I am trying to contain an overwhelming sense of resentment that someone can do this, can take your children just because she does not want to live with you anymore, even if she is their mother.
And I can feel a building tsunami of resentment that she has taken all my money, that a short marriage entitles her to quite significant financial resources, potentially for the rest of my life. It was a good career move for her: prostitution is said to be the oldest profession in the world. That’s a bit unfair towards prostitutes, I suppose, since they are at least honest about how they make a living.
Like I said, there’s an emotional tsunami coming and I am running for high ground.
http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Trouble-W...
I think he meant it as a salutation, a positive recognition that he would return with his brothers to my house in the near future, but to me his innocent farewell had a sense of finality about it, a sense that family life is now absolutely over and that hence forth I will see my sons, the core of my life, for only six or nine days a month.
Even though I have been anticipating this, it is a stark change. For the last seven years, I have been with my boys all the time in the evening and at the weekend. I have helped them through infancy to childhood, played their games, started them reading, and started them playing sport, put them to bed, and been there for them in the morning and at any time in the night when they needed me: I have been their father, their mentor.
Now I am an occasional feature in their lives. My wife seems to have finally accepted the responsibility of motherhood, although she still substitutes me with her own mother when it is expedient for her to do so. The boys seem to have adapted well with no apparent stress and that is a blessing, something to console me, although my eldest asked me if I could buy a house in the same place as them so he can come see me every night.
I had to avoid the truth that his mommy has taken all my money and I will have to live in a shed. I have had no acrimony over the split; she simply moved out one day and took the boys with her. They looked back at me, a little confused, and I had to smile and pretend it was a normal thing to do. But I am trying to contain an overwhelming sense of resentment that someone can do this, can take your children just because she does not want to live with you anymore, even if she is their mother.
And I can feel a building tsunami of resentment that she has taken all my money, that a short marriage entitles her to quite significant financial resources, potentially for the rest of my life. It was a good career move for her: prostitution is said to be the oldest profession in the world. That’s a bit unfair towards prostitutes, I suppose, since they are at least honest about how they make a living.
Like I said, there’s an emotional tsunami coming and I am running for high ground.
http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Trouble-W...
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