Take it from me, having a difficult dad can be a gift
Adele’s estranged father, Mark evans, has died at the age of 57 from bowel cancer. one-time alcoholic, he spent the last few years of his life living modestly in Bridgend, Wales — a far cry from his daughter’s stellar existence.
Theirs was a fractious relationship. He never made any bones about his failings, admitting he was a ‘rotten father’. His behaviour certainly left a lasting mark on Adele, who never seemed to find it in her heart to forgive him.
One never truly knows what goes on in families, and I’m sure Adele has her reasons. It may be simply that he was too painful a presence in her life for her to cope with, and seeing him or speaking to him was more than she could bear.
For all that, though, I am sorry for her that he has died at this point in their relationship. she is still a very young woman — just 33 — and I’m sure, given time, they might have found an understanding, some kind of forgiveness. And I’m sure, too, that it would have brought her great peace.
Why am I so sure? Because for different reasons, I, too, was angry with my father when I was Adele’s age. I don’t think he would deny that he was a difficult man back then, and he and I had many serious issues, several of which I could never have imagined overcoming.
I won’t go into details: suffice to say he has the ego of Napoleon, the looks of George Best, the morals of Mick Jagger and the liver of Oliver Reed. like I said, complicated. And very hard work.
There were times when I felt that keeping him in my life was an act of supreme masochism — and so did many of my friends.
Yet for all the frustrations and arguments, there was always a part of me that knew that, behind all the madness, there was a good man struggling to get out. I just had to find a way to get past the ogre.
Now, aged 54 and after two decades of hard work, I can honestly say one of the things I am most grateful for in my life is that he is still alive. Not just because he’s my father, and I love him very much; but because, had I lost him 20 years ago, I would never have had the chance to work through my resentment and finally make my peace with him, and he with me.
I would have still been that angry young woman, arguably too selfish and too wrapped up in myself to see what was really going on. I would have missed out on the opportunity to have someone in my life who is not only funny, clever and supremely entertaining; but who is also a key part of my psyche, whether I like it or not.
NOWthat I am older, I see so much better the struggles he faced and the demons he wrestled with; the motives that drove him and the traumas that shaped him. I’ve learned to be far less judgmental about others’ failings, especially when — as it inevitably turns out — I have so many of my own.
I also understand that, although I resented him hugely when I was younger, I actually owe him a huge debt. For it was he who gave me that all-important bit of grit in my oyster, the adversity from which I have fashioned whatever success I may claim in life. As the mother of two children, I know how vital drive and resilience are to a young person’s development. Make it too easy for them, and they will never learn the skills to tackle life.
Of course we all want to shield our children. But adversity, while not a pleasant thing, has its uses.
I wonder how much of Adele’s outstanding determination and ambition has its roots in that awful, dysfunctional relationship with her father? In his weakness, his inability to cope, his failure to live up to expectations. like so many of the great singer-songwriters, she writes from a place of pain.
Perhaps that, in the end, is his gift to her. either way, I’m sad for them both that they never came full circle.
Daddy, I never wanted Someone Like You — pages 24-25