Love That Lasts Forever

by Pat Barrow

  That last phone call from uni when somehow I had stumbled over the words as I told Dad that I was leaving the course and no longer going to be a doctor had been the last time he had ever spoken to me. But although physically he’d severed all links between us, we’d remained united by bonds too convoluted to disentangle. I’d struggled to free myself but I’d remained his prisoner, a little fly in the spider’s web. As I pondered my plight, a wave of new emotions bubbled and surged to the surface. They came from deep within me. An anger, a white hot anger, blazing in all its fury fought its way out. I shuddered and closed my eyes as I struggled to manage its magnitude and with the sudden realisation that until today I’d never allowed myself to be angry with the man who had manipulated and dominated my life, who had robbed me of so much and then simply discarded me. Of course, I had a right to be angry.

  Back before their separation as his hold over Mum had weakened, he retaliated by slowly eroding her children’s need for her. I could see now the manipulative games he had played gradually and oh so subtly winning our affection and loyalty. After the ending of the family life, I had always known he’d wasted no time in demolishing any happy memories Jonty and I had of Mum – filling us instead with suspicion and doubt. I cringed to remember how delighted Jonty and I had been when Dad had arranged Tae Kwon Do and horse-riding slots in Mum’s precious time. How he had forced her from our home, wrecked contact arrangements and eventually driven her to make the decision to move in order to retain her sanity and in so doing, sacrificing her relationship with us. He’d dragged us off to Cardiff, away from our home, our school and our friends chasing his empty dreams of love and happiness with no regard for us and all the time convincing Jonty and me that his love for us was unmeasurable. The fraud. The hateful, fucking bastard.

  I let the anger surge and roar and then subside, washing over me. The experience was profound. It gave me a sense of release and then I slumped exhausted in my seat, luxuriating in a sense of deep peace like nothing I’d ever experienced before. “Oh Dad,” I whispered to myself, “now that you are gone, you can’t hurt me anymore. I’m free to be me.” I wanted to scream it from the rooftops – I’m free, I’m free! “And you know in spite of my anger, I don’t hate you; I pity you. I’ve realised the truth and I know that what you purported to be love was worthless, it was simply your own unmet needs which drove you to possess me and demand that I adored and worshipped you. But you were the loser; you ended up with nothing.”

  Subconsciously, I reached for my chicken salad wrap and bit hungrily into it, savouring the mix of flavours and the soft roll. Until today, I’d have picked out the filling and nibbled a bit of the wrap discarding most of it. I smiled as I wiped the crumbs from my mouth and then surprised myself because as the refreshment trolley was wheeled past, I confidently heard myself asking for a coffee and a Kit Kat. Tears spilled down my cheeks, I realised that the delights of food could once again play a part in my life. I knew that food and not eating no longer needed to control me. I was free of that or certainly on my way to freedom. The chocolate made my mouth water with delight. I settled back in my seat confident that I really did have a positive future ahead of me – no doubt, there would be challenges and disappointments as well as moments of delight, but I knew and I could be oh so sure that Mum’s love for me and for Jonty would last forever.