At the rockiest point in my life, my father packed his bags and left our family to gallivant around with another woman, dropping my mum, my little sister, and me like yesterdays leftovers. My sister was only two at the timeand she had health problems that seemed to get worse as the months limped by. Looking after her cost an eye-watering amount of money (proper Queens pounds!), sweat, and the kind of patience only saints and mothers possess. I didnt quite understand all the ins and outs of my sisters illness, but I could see the toll it took on my mum and gran as they tried absolutely everything to keep her safe.
Dad, meanwhile, started moaning incessantly about being exhausted and rowing with mum at every opportunity, leaving her utterly shattered. His grand exit felt like a pure, personal betrayal, mainly because hed always been so decent with me before, especially while mum was up to her neck caring for my sister.
The day mum discovered hed up and left us is seared into my memory as the bleakest, greyest day ever. He moved off to another cityone of those concrete lumps up northstarted a shiny, new existence with his femme fatale, and seemed to have totally scrubbed us from his brain. Even after my paternal gran tracked him down and begged him to return, he wouldnt budge. Then, about a year later, my beloved sister passed away, leaving us gutted. Dad didnt even show up to say goodbye or offer the tiniest crumb of comfort.
Mum was utterly broken by losing her little girl, and my gran ended up being the main person holding me together. Luckily, both my grans were absolute legendsso loving they became my second and third mums. Bit by bit, mum started to surface from her grief, remembered I existed, andeyes all waterygave me a bear hug, swearing shed never, ever leave me. She promised to put my happiness first, and true to her word, she and gran never let go of me. They fussed over me, spoiled me, and even made sure I had the prettiest dress at my graduation so Id feel like the queen of the ball.
For years, my dad might as well have vanished off the face of the earth, and though I tried to scrub him from my memory, I couldnt quite manage it. He did make one illustrious comebackfor my grans funeral. Hopes of inheriting her flat, no doubt. But, much to his surprise (and my utter delight), wise old Gran had put the flat in my name back when I was just twelve. That gesture of love and loyalty showed where true family ties lie: they run deeper than DNA, and are built on care, not just on blood.
