Rage of a man who’s lost his son

OCCASIONALLY, I receive a furious email that requires attention.

John wrote in response to last week’s letters, saying: ‘ It’s apparent you won’t actually try to deal with any “real” problems but only pathetic trivia… so please kindly delete my serious contribution (if you still have it) to your ridiculously facile pages.’

I replied: ‘I understand that your words are wrenched from the depths of your ongoing hurt — which is, indeed, greater than anything most of us have had to endure.’

For his original problem letter was a long, terrible story of a man deprived of his only son — born in 1997. It described a dysfunctional marriage and a man admitting to being ‘verbally aggressive after our separation and divorce, as I was obstructed by her from having access to our son and angry at the way she’d schemed.’

Hugely complicated, it involved the police, a restraining order, all contact denied, John complaining to the Ombudsman about his useless solicitors… and so on.

He ended the powerful screed of misery and rage with this: ‘I know my son is now a man, but I love and miss him and I want to know exactly what has happened, what he has been told and what’s causing his rejection of me now.’

I had to point out that it’s impossible to answer those questions. John is raging at me because he can rage at nobody else — so I told him I have great sympathy with fathers deprived of access to their children by women (sometimes vituperative, even wicked) who use them as weapons.

Don’t children have a right to know their dads? Having said that, sometimes there’s good reason for a father to be deprived of access — but such legal issues cannot be dealt with in a column like this.

Do I feel compassion for John, who hasn’t seen his boy since 2009? Yes, indeed. But equally for his son — whom I hope one day will seek out his father and make up his own mind.

Bel answers readers’ questions on emotional and relationship problems each week. Write to Bel Mooney, Daily Mail, 2 Derry Street, london W8 5TT, or email bel.mooney@dailymail.co.uk. A pseudonym will be used if you wish. Bel reads all letters but regrets she cannot enter into personal correspondence.