Yes, it’s Fathers Day again, which I have to say, has not been a great experience for me over the last decade.  Like so many who may be reading this, this day is a reminder of what could have been and what still can be in the future.  A day of frustration, but also a day when I remind myself that things can change for the good, even after a long time.  And indeed it has, at last.

About a decade ago I was happily married with two young children and a house and a job, living in the South of England. Joe was about 8 and Sarah was 6.  I was a happy, hands-on dad with a great relationship with the kids.  Within the space of a few weeks a lot changed.  Triggered by nothing very substantial or obvious, suddenly there was a torrent of lawyers’ letters in all directions, shortly followed by dramatic accusations, CAFCASS reports and the gradual dawning that divorce was not something quite unfortunate that only happened to others or that could be quickly sorted.  Someone suggested FNF who were very helpful on the phone and in branch meetings where the real picture of what was about to happen was revealed to me – fortunately, in advance.  No simple legal adjudication and a just and reasoned outcome was likely if the separation was acrimonious. There would be no simple partition of our assets followed by  responsible if more distant parenting of our by now distraught children.  It was not a nightmare – it was real and it was happening to us!

The initial legal process of separation,  took only a few weeks and although acrimonious in the extreme, with my post often being binned and sudden competition over the school runs which we had always shared, as well as many other quite unbelievable scenes.  Eventually mother in law turned up for the weekend and I knew my hopes of sharing our house in some new way was going out of the window.  I stayed home from work to be with the kids and suddenly pantechnicon vans turned up unannounced to empty the house.

It was a terrible day and the children were more devastated than I was, but it was very fortunate that I had stayed home.  Stories  abound of a dad returning from work to the shell of a home with no children, no furniture except for a bed and a favourite mug shattered on the floor – or worse.  I was lucky.  I had a good order for contact and still had a house – even if I had to sell it and split the proceeds.

Contact was remarkably good but handovers were terrible.  And whilst I was rebuilding my life and seeing our children every week, it was clear that my ex felt I ought to suffer far more.  And indeed I did.  After about a year I received letter from a school nearly 300 miles away with details of the arrangements for the start of term.  I had never heard of this school nor even visited that part of England.  I certainly was not expecting the children to be going there.

Of course a person is generally allowed to move and move they did, despite a flurry of court hearings over moving, changing schools, and contact.  More accusations, more CAFCASS, more pain.  And the realisation that to see and support the children, I would be facing huge travel and accommodation difficulties – all gleefully anticipated by my ex who objected to everything right down to the way I washed the sports kit, in her attempts to show that I was not a reliable dad.

But I was and remain a reliable dad.  I never missed a contact visit (through my own fault!) or phone call and after a generous settlement I paid truly vast sums towards maintenance and private school.  Despite the generous terms and my ex eventually remarrying, things got worse as the children reached their teens.  Eventually I moved to the same town as them despite the horrendous commute which then followed.  Not to mention the disruption to my new partner and her two children (and to their dad – with whom we all got on and continued to get on).  Did things get better now that I had moved nearby?  No.  My ex was determined to airbrush me out of the children’s lives, and eventually the tentacles of parental alienation slipped in. 

Within a few months I was told the children no longer wanted to see me.  This was not the children’s view and more court hearings followed to enforce contact but gradually communication and contact with my son stopped and I had absolutely no idea why.  And that continued for almost seven years.

Contact with my daughter continued, but gradually she came under pressure and suddenly the same thing happened.  All contact stopped.  No explanation, no falling out – just silence.

This phase was definitely the hardest – I simply had no idea what they were feeling and why communications had stopped.  Not knowing was the worst.  Gradually after some time, I began to receive texts from my daughter, but my son remained silent.  I never stopped texting and emailing them both every so often - with jokes, interesting things and what I felt was fatherly advice but I was rarely aware if the messages had been received.  Sometimes my messages showed a little anger – why did they not at least have the courtesy to respond even occasionally?  Thankfully I restrained myself though, and eventually learned to come to terms with my anger and suffering.  I met with other people in my situation and we bided our time.  I always avoided blaming the children for their apparently unkind behaviour.  I knew they could not help it and that for them, facing the problem was probably even harder than it was for me.  I did my best to show them I didn’t blame them and that my door was always open for them, whatever happened.  Gradually my daughter began responding to my texts and even eventually began to express strong wishes to see me again.  But any attempts to set a date were met with long silences.  And nothing at all from my son.  Then my daughter began dropping off cards for my birthday and also for Fathers Days.  And I would catch sight of the children at school sports events or parents evenings.  But no responses in person apart from the odd wave from my daughter at parents evenings when her mother was looking the other way.

This went on for years and it was only recently that on my birthday, having so far heard nothing, I decided to call my daughter who had just dropped a card through my door and who despite this was nowhere to be seen when I rushed to open the front door.  To my surprise she answered the phone and we had our first conversation for about four years.  It was lovely.  A little stilted in places, but it was clearly a relief and a happy occasion for both of us.  We agreed to meet sometime soon and catch up.  School was fine and A-levels were looming, but life was ok, and we just talked.

After that I thought, this really is a great birthday and despite knowing that I would probably not get through, I decided to call my son who was now living away from home and at uni.  I left a voice mail for him saying, half in jest, that I had just thought he might like the opportunity to wish me a happy birthday! And I left it at that.

What seemed like ten minutes later I received a text from him wishing me happy birthday.  The text ended with an “x”!  I could hardly believe my eyes.  It was as if life was suddenly brighter and lighter and full of hope now mixed with overwhelming relief.  He had replied.  And not just replied, but the 19-year old lad had added a kiss!  It really seemed like a miracle and I was overjoyed. 

In due course we spoke on the phone and then arranged to go away together for a long weekend where we got to know each other again a little.  It was great.  We’ve been in touch frequently since then and I’m really pleased to say I’m expecting him today, Friday for this Fathers Day weekend.

My daughter has almost finished her A-levels and has promised (in text messages) to visit me after her exams.  We still haven’t set a date, but she sounded so enthusiastic in her texts that I’m sure it will be soon.  I hope so.

So that is the happy ending to a long and at times very painful story or episode in our lives.  I’ve written it in the hope that it will serve as a small reminder for all those who I know are out there and who are still waiting for a glimmer of love from their absent loved ones.  You are not alone.  Also, times “they are a-changing” - and there is always hope. 

Happy Fathers Day – Remembering that we are good fathers.  Just don’t give up, and try your best to keep your heart and mind open – miracles do occasionally happen.


Names and locations changed.

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Father's Day, like Christmas, birthdays and other special occasions, can be a particularly difficult time of year for parents that are unable to see their children. For many fathers, the gifts and advertising campaigns focussed on Fathers Day will be a painful reminder of their own situation. It can be an incredibly lonely time, and it can be difficult for friends and family to understand what you are going through.

You are not alone.

Last year, four FNF members gave us their thoughts about Father’s Day, and moving accounts of their experiences as separated parents.

This year, two of these fathers have given us a further update about their lives. Their situations are quite different, but both are united in the lengths they have gone to ensure their children are able to maintain a meaningful relationship with them. Both, sadly, also highlight the numerous challenges and hurdles that still face parents who do not live with their children.

Click on the links below for updates from FNF Dads Jason and David.

• David's Update
• Jason's Update

Many reading this will be able to recognise similarities to their own situations. There are no guarantees when it comes to families, and though some are able to rebuild their relationship with their children, others are less fortunate. All of these situations are different; what unites them though is that all of the Dads featured here have experienced the pain of being separated from their children. If you are in a similar situation this Fathers Day, we are sure that their stories will resonate with you.

Click on the links below to read our Father’s Day Reflections from last year.

• Jason, Weybridge
• David, Leeds
• Bill, Oxford

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As Father's Day approaches, many of us will struggle with the issues of being apart from our children. It's a difficult time, and can make us feel like the mountain ahead of us is just impossible to climb. I hope my story might give some encouragement and strength to readers.

My case started in December 2011, a week before Christmas, when I returned home from work to find my house looking like the scene of a burglary, and my partner and our 3 year old daughter gone. No note, no text, nothing. I was devastated and felt that the biggest part of my life had been ripped from me, especially as I'd been primary carer for our daughter for approximately 60% of the time since her mother had returned to work over two years previously.

I spoke to my solicitor, and commenced Children Act proceedings. At the same time, I joined FNF, with the hope that I would get some support and advice from people with real life experiences. I got both, in spades. More importantly, and partly because I was getting that support so early on in the case, I was able to listen and act on that advice.

Long story short, it's been a struggle, and there have been times when I felt I couldn't go on. And plenty of times when my bank balance has felt the same. My daughter had been taken over 300 miles away. I didn't see her for weeks, or even have a phone call over Christmas. When I was allowed to see her, I was only allowed supported contact, although with no reason. I persevered, often driving for 5 hours each way just to spend 2 or 3 hours with her. I couldn't even take my daughter out initially, and it wasn't until on the steps of the court for the initial hearing that I was offered the chance to see her for more than 3 hours once a fortnight.

 Although the case was started at my local court, it was transferred to the court in their new area.

However, I was able to put a very strong case together that was entirely child focused. I got a school place, and lined up childminders. I showed that our daughter would have a safe, secure home and a stable routine, and that I was completely committed to simply being a good dad. I didn't rise to any of the bait, and refused to get into any mudslinging. Despite a number of claims by my ex-partner, my behaviour and approach to the case allowed the Judge to see through them, and we moved straight to a final hearing.

Less than 7 months after our initial hearing, I was given a contact order for alternate weekends staying contact, as well as half of all holidays. Additionally, the Mother was ordered to be responsible for at least one third of the travel, and I was congratulated on my behaviour and actions throughout the case.

My relationship with my daughter is fantastic now, and we've had some amazing times together. She knows she has a safe and secure home with me, and whilst there are some challenges still, she is adjusting really well. She clearly values and benefits from knowing that she can count on me to be there when I say I'll be there and the effort I've put in has paid dividends in her acceptance of the situation.

So - if there's one message I can give, it's that it doesn't take Fathers Day to make you a Dad. You'll always be that, and regardless of what's happening and how difficult it feels, nothing can ever change that. So be strong, and keep at it. With a clear head and the support of those around you, it can get better.

 Names and locations have been changed.

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As well as our support services, Families Need Fathers campaigns for the reform of family courts, increased support for separated and separating families and the promotion of Shared Parenting. As a result, we are keen to work with and provide assistance to the media wherever possible. 

Journalists & Researchers

If you are a journalist, researcher or similar seeking information or comment on the work of Families Need Fathers or any related issues, please contact the FNF office on 0300 0300 110 / media@fnf.org.uk  who will be extremely happy to speak with you and discuss how FNF may be able to help.

Spokespeople 

Families Need Fathers has a range of spokespeople with a wide variety of expertise and experiences available around the country (please click here to view our local branch listings). We have provided spokespeople for local and national media, including BBC Television, ITN, Radio 4 and Radio 5.

If you would like to arrange a spokesperson from Families Need Fathers, please contact the FNF office on 0300 0300 110.

Case Studies

FNF provides many case studies on a regular basis to local and national media. We have a significant cohort of members around the UK, including fathers, mothers, grandparents, extended families and new partners, who have had a range of experiences related to separated families and parenting.

We also have a short selection of significant case studies which can be made available to journalists and researchers.

If you are seeking a case study on a particular subject or in a particular area, please contact the FNF office on 0300 0300 110.

FNF Press Releases

 In addition to contacting FNF, you may wish to visit our Press Releases page to view our recent comments and responses. 

FNF in the Media

 You can see where Families Need Fathers has featured in the media by visiting our Online PR Diary.

Contact the FNF Office

0300 0300 110

media@fnf.org.uk

Unit 501, The Pill Box Building, 115 Coventry Road, London, E2 6GG

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When our granddaughter was born, she brought us great joy. She lived not five minutes away and we were heavily involved with every aspect of her life. Then her parents separated, mother moved far away and our son went through the court system in order for all of us to try to retain the relationship. As our granddaughter grew up, she became more and more alienated and neither we nor her father had seen her for many years.

In February her grandfather, my husband, had to undergo surgery to remove a tumour. I thought she should know and managed to get a message to her. We heard nothing. When he had got through it and was on the road to recovery, I let her know that her grandfather was out of hospital and getting stronger every day. She immediately texted back and said that she was sorry she hadn’t replied to the previous text but that she hadn’t had a phone. And please would I give her love to her granddad. I did so and he sent back a message to say thank you. This was the first ever communication of this sort.

Then he started chemotherapy. After the second dose, he became very, very ill and I felt our granddaughter should know. She immediately said she would like to come and see him.

I met her in the hospital car park to warn her that her grandfather was very sick. Then we went to his room. I told her to go to the side of his bed, close to him. I said to him, “Look who’s come to see you.” He opened his eyes and looked at her. He reached up his frail arms and said, “I thought I’d never see you again” and wept. She hugged him.

We stayed just a short time as he went to sleep. I then asked if she’d like to have a meal with her dad. She said yes. So I took her to meet her father and we spent an hour or so all together. Then we returned to spend a few more minutes with her grandfather.

Sadly, three days later he died.

His funeral was last week. His granddaughter came. She spent time with all her paternal family: all my family plus my nieces and nephews, all her aunts and uncles and her cousins were there, some from overseas. Plus many friends including some that I know through FNF.

Afterwards, she came to our house. She saw that the sign on her granddad’s office was the one she had put there many years before. All the passwords on his computer included her name.  We found a tiny photo of her in his wallet. She was clearly very moved.

Later on she sat and cuddled me and I asked that she shouldn’t disappear again. Now it’s largely up to her. She’s twenty this year.

But I’m so relieved that she saw her grandfather before he died and was reconciled with him. For both their sakes.

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