This is a rather long post. Could you please take the time to read it as and when you can? Many thanks, Ellie.
As most of you know, my son and my grandchildren, eleven and nine, stay with me every other Thursday through to Friday, and then, Sunday through to Monday.
My son, and his ex-wife of eight years who is sadly controlled by the grandmother, who really isn’t kind to the children and is abusive to and about my son for no good reason other than spite. My son sees the children every other week from Thursday afternoon until Monday morning when they go to school. In the main school holidays, the children, Imogen (11) and Charlie (9) spend half the time with their mum and half with my son.
The children arrived with me yesterday evening after spending a gloriously happy week with their daddy. He lives up north with his fiancee and her three boys, who all get on together famously. They have their own bedrooms there and have their pets, too. They adore my son’s fiancee (S), and she reciprocates this love.
However, this time was to be different. My son, Tom, had to leave the children here as he had to head back up north for an early hospital appointment yesterday morning and had asked me if I could have the children overnight. They’re very used to me, to being and sleeping here. I tell them I love them frequently, and we share lots of hugs and snuggles.
When my son had to leave here, he hugged the children and told them how much he loved them and that he’d be back again in three days. In the meantime, they are to return to their mother’s, but they mostly stay with granny, who they both dislike, as she is so unkind to them.
Little Charlie became very upset about his daddy leaving him. He clung to Tom with all his nine-year-old might, but my son said he had to go. Charlie then grabbed my son’s shoes and ran upstairs to hide them so his daddy couldn’t leave. Daddy soon found them. Eventually, my son had to prise Charlie off of him and went out of the front door. Charlie was totally distraught. He ran outside in the cold and dark and jumped in the car’s passenger seat. Tom had to get him out. By this time, little Charlie was sobbing his little heart out. He suddenly jumped up and threw himself onto the car’s bonnet so my son couldn’t drive away. A real act of desperation, especially from a child.
I’m not able to walk outdoors because of my disability and use a frame or trolley indoors. I watched him, feeling totally useless, and I was absolutely heartbroken to see Charlie so desperately distraught. After a few minutes, Imogen, the little sweetheart that she is, ran out there in the dark and cold in her pyjamas and bare feet and eventually, with her daddy, coaxed Charlie back into my house, and we quickly had to shut and lock the door.
Eyes streaming and nose constantly running, he was impossible to console. I was totally at a loss as to what would comfort him other than holding him, giving him hugs and words of reassurance. I tried to distract him by doing some painting or drawing, but, no, he didn’t want to know.
Eventually, he calmed down a bit and phoned my son’s fiancee, whom he loves, and she spoke with him for a while, which seemed to settle him a bit more.
It was bedtime, so I took Charlie upstairs to get his pyjamas on and clean his teeth. I tucked him into bed, but he got upset again and wanted Daddy to sleep in the double bed under his bunk as usual, but, of course, Daddy wasn’t there. Tears began to run again, and he just couldn’t settle. Eventually, sweet Imogen said she would sleep in Daddy’s bed so Charlie wouldn’t be alone. He seemed to settle then. I checked on them half an hour later, and thankfully, they were both sound asleep. That was a relief.
Morning came, and I got both the children up and made their breakfast while they showered and dressed, ready for school. They came down and ate their breakfast, and waited for Mike, Tom’s friend, who the children know well, to arrive to take them to school at 8.15am. When Mike arrived, the children clamboured into his van and they set off for school.
After school, they would be picked by their granny, who they both dislike and went back to living there and seeing their mum. I know that poor little Charlie is so confused. He gets upset when he leaves his mummy and also when he has to leave his daddy. It’s heartbreaking to know these young children are constantly being pulled from pillar to post
I shut the front door, breathed a sigh of emotional relief, made myself a steaming cup of Redbush tea, and sat down. I was totally exhausted, physically but more emotionally.
The whole point of this post is to point out how destructive a hostile divorce can be, which can continue for years, continuing to cause so much damage to the children. The children have no say on where they go or who they’re to be with. They have both expressed a wish to live with their daddy, but they are too young to be listened to in a court of law until they’re sixteen. In the meantime, the mental and emotional damage will continue to affect my grandchildren until they reach an age when they can make free choices of their own. So often, by then, the damage is done. When children are involved, it’s totally unfair that the animosity between the mother and father is so apparent to the children, who are torn to pieces. Tom is very careful not to say anything nasty about the children’s mother and granny, but sadly, the same can’t be said for the other party. It truly breaks my heart đ.