A grandparent’s love is forever
‘Losing contact with children is a particularly cruel form of bereavement’
The most anguished letters I have received in 25 years as a columnist have come from grandparents denied access to their grandchildren. Once heard, their stories are not easily forgotten. Malcolm and Sally told me they had been extremely close to their granddaughters, aged five and seven, when their son was killed in an accident. His widow moved to a neighbouring town with her new partner and cut off all contact. Eventually, they found out which school the children attended. “It sounds quite mad,” Malcolm wrote, “but we would drive there when it was playtime and would stand by the railings hoping to catch a glimpse of the girls. We felt like criminals.”
Malcolm and Sally spent thousands of their retirement savings taking legal action to maintain a relationship with their beloved granddaughters. After two years, they were allowed to see the girls for a couple of hours every few months in a contact centre. “It was like prison visiting,” Malcolm wrote. “The girls were clearly upset and we felt we had to whisper when we said we loved them and they said they loved us in case their mum overheard.”
In another terrible case, Jan wrote to say that she and her husband took the agonising decision to report their drug-addict daughter to the authorities because they could see she was neglecting their grandson. Social workers sought a foster family for the four-year-old and idiotically ruled out his own grandparents as suitable candidates. When the child was returned to his mother she cut her parents out of his life. Their birthday cards and Christmas presents were returned unopened. “Our daughter said we had put our grandson at risk by reporting her situation to the authorities,” Jan said. “Actually, we were trying to protect him.”
Losing contact with children you have fed and bathed and crooned to sleep is a particularly cruel form of bereavement. I have heard of grandparents going to their graves still hoping that long-lost grandchildren might get in touch. It’s hugely encouraging, therefore, to hear that the Ministry of Justice is examining proposals to give grandparents an automatic right to see their grandchildren. MPS from all parties are backing an amendment to the Children’s Act 1989 to enshrine in law the child’s right to have a relationship with their grandparents and other close members of their extended family. At the moment, grandparents face an arduous, two-stage process, applying first to court for the ability just to request access. Despite the difficulty and enormous expense, 2,000 grandparents applied for child arrangement orders in 2016 (up 25per cent). In future, judges would have to put greater weight on the attempts of grandparents to gain access.
To say this reform is long overdue is putting it mildly. The law has failed quite abysmally to keep pace with social changes which have seen grandparents assuming an ever-greater role in youngsters’ lives. According to a Yougov poll for Age UK, two thirds of the nation’s grandparents – that’s five million people – now provide regular childcare for their grandchildren. One in 10 looks after their grandchildren every single day, a fifth look after them 4-6 times a week and 38per cent take a caring role 2-3 times a week.
The extraordinary rise of “grannannying” has come about because so many families now have two parents in full-time work. Not only is granny cheaper than a nursery, she is one of the few people who loves your child as much as you do. Many women I know feel confident going back to work because they’re sure that their own mother (or mother-in-law) is the best possible carer their children could have. This vast unpaid contribution to the well-being of society is scandalously unacknowledged.
Grannannies are not just of use when children are little. A third say that they play the role of confidante for older grandchildren with worries. Many of us will have wonderful memories of the precious part our own grandparents played in our lives, a relationship which is often simpler and more joyful than the one with parents. On Twitter not long ago, I said that, decades after their deaths, I was still sustained by the unconditional love of my Welsh Mam (Mamgu) and Dat (Tadcu). The response was overwhelming. Scores of people tweeted about their grandparents providing a sanctuary, a place where they knew they would be adored and accepted no matter what.
It is disgraceful that the law persists in treating them as “outsiders” or discriminates against them in adoption cases. How many times have we read about horrific child-abuse stories where it emerges that the grandparents applied for, and were denied, custody of a child who was subsequently hurt or killed?
Think, if you can bear to, of the distress of the grandparents of six-yearold Ellie Butler, beaten to death in 2013 by her father, Ben Butler, less than a year after she was returned to her parents following a custody battle. As a baby, Ellie was placed in the care of her adoring grandparents, Neal and Linda Gray, after their son-in-law was convicted of shaking her. She was incredibly happy for four years until she was returned to what Ellie called a “bad house”.
Discriminating against them on the grounds of age is an outrage. Better a mildly forgetful grandpa than a dad with an evil temper.
In France, the legal system gives children the choice of seeing their grandparents, no matter what malicious parents might say. British children both need and deserve that access to intergenerational help and support, so crucial when the nuclear family is in meltdown. A parent should not be allowed to weaponise children in a rancorous divorce, not if it means cutting them off from grandparents to spite an erring spouse. The proposed change to the Children’s Act is easily made – let’s hope all MPS support it.
My son asks me why I get tears in my eyes whenever I talk about my grandfather. I try to tell him about that wonderful man, the walks where he taught me the names of all the flowers (every spring, I recall the difference between blackthorn and hawthorn because of him), the hazelnuts knocked from the hedgerow by his stick, the beautiful songs he sang, the smell of his Fedora hat come in from the rain, the smallness of my mittened hand held in his. Romantic love may wither and die, but a grandparent’s love is yours forever.