I was listening to an interview with actor and rapper Ashley Walters, where he talks about his relationship with his father.
In the Diary of a CEO episode, Ashley talks about his fractured relationship with his father and how his dad spent a lot of time in prison, often being told by his mother that he was in France.
The Top Boy actor spoke about how, despite people’s perceptions that his father could have a negative impact on him, he always chose to see him if he could because he craved that relationship that everyone else seemed to have. After his dad passed away in 2005, Ashley said he was broken by the loss, something that his mother (whom he loves deeply) didn’t understand. After all, Ashley’s father had been absent for so long. This made me stop because it was a familiar experience.
It reminded me of the passing of my own father eight years ago and screaming out loud as my step-sister told me he was gone. My parents split when I was about three, and for years, it was just me and my mum.
When I was about 10 or so, my dad returned, and we formed a sort of relationship, though I was reluctant at first. When he passed a few days ahead of my 31st birthday, we weren’t on speaking terms, but I was devastated nonetheless.
Why? Because whilst you can never replace a loved one, there’s a particular type of loss when it’s a parent.
When Ashley spoke about his feelings, I recognised it from my perspective and also how it could be perceived by a mother as I am one.
Losing a distant parent represents the loss of a unique relationship that is irreplaceable. When I lost my Dad and then my paternal grandmother a few years later, I had a profound sense of a loss not only of family but of my history. It’s not just the person that dies but the hope or opportunity of ever having that mother/father/daughter/son relationship often displayed as the “normal” experience.
The natural things people think of when a loved one passes are all the questions that were never asked, the conversations never had and in my case, the loss of our family history particularly when it comes to our elders. You only get one mother, one father, one set of grandparents. They’re the pillars of family dynamics. The nucleus of a home, which is why when they’re missing, it feels like a fundamental omission.
I also understand it from a mother’s perspective. I feel that a present and engaged mother will always carry the brunt of childcare no matter how brilliant the father in that relationship is. This becomes even more true when you’re a single parent. There are no breaks, no respite, and a whole load of sacrifice. Whilst you do it because they’re your children, I think if parents felt allowed to be honest, there are some significant losses for you too as a person beyond your title of mother, friend, or sister. So it can feel like a slight when an absent parent is mourned so deeply.
As children, I’m not sure how often we think about the relationship our mothers and fathers have with each other from an objective perspective. To the child, they’re the first people they ever loved and the person they automatically looked to for security and love.
For our parents, however, the other parent could be a source of pain. In a particularly bad break-up, the relationship could have been severed by any means necessary and, depending on how they choose to co-parent afterwards (if at all), it stands to reason that boundaries are put in place to prevent further hurt. Over time, distance is placed between them and the other person emotionally, so it must seem odd that their child can respond so viscerally because they no longer feel so strongly about that person.
For any parents who may find themselves in that scenario, the key thing to remember is that it’s not about you, nor is it a reflection of you. Your children never knew the person you interpreted their absent parent to be and saying “you never knew them” or “you weren’t that close” diminishes the feelings of a relationship it would be impossible to understand as it was never yours. In counter to that, children should realise that their living parent may never empathise or even understand their perspective, and that is ok. They don’t need to.
For children experiencing the loss, the most important thing to remember, in my estimation, is that you have a right to mourn (or not) a parent no matter the context of your relationship. It doesn’t have to make sense to anyone. It just has to be an unfiltered and unsuppressed acknowledgement of your feelings. You should not feel guilty or ashamed of your feelings in situations, nor is there a prescribed way to act.
I think it’s important to say I’m not a counsellor or psychologist and would never claim to be. My perspective is a reflection of my lived experience and learnings and won’t work for everyone. What I will say, though, is stay true to yourself and be kind and patient as emotions are unearthed that you may not have known you had.
Main image: K. Mitch Hodge
