Losing our fathers

I really surprised myself today. For most of my life I vowed I wouldn’t mourn when my father finally departed this Earth.

Yet, today when I received the notification, tears ran unchecked down my cheeks.

My father abused my mother and I, and I was constantly terrified of his temper. He’d openly flaunt his many extramarital affairs, telling us in great detail of his encounters, despite the fact that I was still a child.

Their relationship was extremely toxic and impacted negatively on my self-confidence to this day. On my 15th birthday their divorce came through, after my mother heeded my heartfelt pleas to leave him once and for all.

At the end of the day, I have to realise that, for better or for worse, he was my father. I bitterly regret that he never apologised to my mother before she passed away, and he died before making peace with me.

I know it’s time to forgive, if not forget, so I can finally move on with my life, but it’s difficult.

I feel I have no closure, and now never will, as I spent my life waiting for an apology that never came. RIP, EMAIL

SDearest Dad passed away. He was over 80 years old and had a good life. Over the years he’d helped many, and many came to his home for evenings of good food, alcohol and a happy time.

There were colleagues who came to his home for advice for their businesses and friends next door who Dad helped in so many ways with his keen and happy enthusiasm.

He was so proud to help many who’d phone him for his expertise in his line of work.

Then suddenly, as if overnight, he developed dementia at the age of 74. Our lives came crashing down as we had to witness the ravaging effects of this terrible, long and roller-coaster disease.

The phone calls and visits stopped. Dad’s business collapsed. Many socalled sincere colleagues, friends and family turned their backs – most of them, anyway. Not all.

I’m grateful for these few people and I’m grateful for a human being like my dad. SADDENED, DURBAN