I'm biting the bullet a little bit here and putting my thoughts out there for the wider community to consider. I direct this piece of advice to parents who feel that they can no longer live with each other and have made the decision to seperate with the view to

When I was six, I came home from school one day to find some packed bags and my father sitting out in the back room all on his own, smoking - he was usually at work and, therefore, something seemed odd but I could not figure it out, not at that age. Anyway, mum told me to go and have a word with my father while we waited for a taxi as we were going 'on holidays' to my grandmothers place in New Zealand, and that my father would be joining us in a few weeks. So, I did, and my memory shows me quite clearly the chair my father sat in (a large, soft, black, leather-look seat from the lounge room) as he put his cigarette out and asked me to come and sit on his lap for a minute. His face was wet though, as I'd never seen him cry, I did not understand why. He gave me a long cuddle, told me how much he loved me and then asked me to spell Australia for him. I did as I was asked and he then asked me never to forget it (Australia). I obviously never did ...

I noted that my (older) brother, who is extremely mentally retarded with the IQ of someone aged between three and ten depending upon the situation, was not invited into the room for this goodbye but I did not think a lot of it at the time as my father was often quite remote with us kids, especially my brother. I now know that he (my brother) was one of many reasons that my parents did not remain together, but that is another story for another time.

I don't remember much after that - I guess we got to the airport and onto the plane and then proceeded to my grandmothers place in Wellington, my mum, my brother and myself. What I do remember is that, possibly a few days later, maybe a few weeks, I asked mum when dad was going to arrive. I asked because mum had enrolled me at the local school and I was bewildered as to why my father had not joined us. Mum simply said that we were staying with Gran for a few more months before heading back to Australia. No further explanation and I knew better than to ask - I was the sort of child who could not bear to see my mother upset and so never pestered her when it seemed that she did not want to tell me something.

Nine months later (at that time, nine months was the legal period required for a separation before a divorce could be filed for), mum packed us all up again and we returned to Australia. We did not return to Adelaide where my father was living, we returned to Sydney to a new house where there was a new man waiting for mum (us) to join him. I knew this man - he was the son of a much loved 'aunty' whom I had only ever met a few times. As a young child I had always had the impression that he was rarely in Australia (Adelaide) because of the university degrees he was doing at Oxford in England. Knowing who he was, though, made the whole experience much less frightening / threatening than it would have been if this man had been an unknown quantity. It was only once we had moved in with him that mum finally said to me that we would not be living with my father anymore, that this would be our new home from now on.

So, with the expected feelings of resentment that someone thought they could take my fathers place, I tolerated this man for the sake of my mum. The resentment was not great at first but by the time I was a pre-teen it had gradually built up to the point that I decided I didn't like him and I made sure that he knew it! This man is eight years younger than my mum and, as such, was not really emotionally ready to know how to handle children, let alone one with such a severe disability (my brother). He spent many days in his room with a 'migraine' early on in the piece and I clearly have a memory of mum storming out of the house one Saturday afternoon, leaving both my brother and I alone with this 'stranger'. I have to give him credit for trying his best to reassure an almost hysterical seven year old that mummy was coming back, that she had just gone for a walk, but the slam of the door echoed on in my head and it seemed to be forever before she returned. It was probably only half an hour, but that can be an awfully long time for a young child. As I saw it at the time, he was making mum unhappy and I did not understand why we stayed, why we did not simply go home to my father and everything would be alright again.

The other memory that still haunts me about those early years between seven and twelve was that my father would promise to come and see me, promise to take me out for the day, promise to take me on holidays back to Adelaide with him, all sorts of promises just so that I would continue to have him up there on that pedestal that young girls put their fathers upon. The truth is that there were many, many times when I would wait at the front door (my father would never come to the door civilly, he always parked outside the house and honked the horn for me to come to the car) for him to turn up and never really know whether or not he actually would. There was always some plausible excuse (in my mind) for him being late (if he said a time, I would know that he would not be there until at least one hour later) or for not turning up at all. Those were the times when I would come back inside after waiting for three hours on the front porch with tears streaming down my face that he hadn't come for me, again.

We may think our children are too young to understand what is happening but that does not make the hurt any less for the child(ren). It did not matter, I would wait every single time. I simply shut out of my mind that he might not turn up (again) and I ignored the way he would not come to the front door and did not question why. I only wanted to see him and, on the few occasions that he actually turned up, I was so grateful and happy to see him that I would forget the past three (or four, or five) occasions when he had let me down. Because nobody told me otherwise, I spent many years in the mistaken belief that my mother was the bad person in this story.

Nowadays I know a lot more about what occurred because I have been brave enough to ask mum direct questions which she has answered for me, gradually letting small pieces of information come my way over the last few years. Though it hurt mum a lot because she had to live with the consequences of the total disregard that my father showed my feelings as a child, she never sought to discredit my father to me when I was young. It was only at the age of twelve that I started to realise that my father did not actually have a halo - that was the age when airfares turned from a child fare to an adult fare and I was no longer invited to visit with him (he had moved back to New Zealand himself by then).

*******************

The moral of this story is thus : no matter how young your child(ren) are, if you are preparing for a separation or divorce, it would be a wise and brave person who is able to tell the child(ren) that mummy and daddy are no longer in love and have decided not to live together anymore. The child(ren) should be given prior warning in preparation for the break and should be informed as to what is going to happen, who will be living where and what sort of relationship they can expect to be able to maintain with the parent who is no longer with them on a full-time basis. It would also be a wise non-custodial parent that ensures that they maintain a healthy relationship (if appropriate) with their child(ren) by keeping in regular contact and not making promises that will not be kept. Children are a gift to us and we should treat them as such - they are not pawns in the game of life and should never be used by a parent to hurt the other parent, no matter what the situation is. Children have long memories that can be very distorted ... I know because I am one of those children.

If you find yourself in the unfortunate position of not being able to continue on with a relationship whilst you have a child or children, please be as honest and thoughtful towards them as you would if they were adults. I do not mean that you should air the dirty laundry for your child(ren), I simply mean to not involve them in the emotional rollercoaster that you are trying to handle yourself by overlooking their feelings - treat them with respect and try to consider how they will be reacting to the turmoil themselves. The child(ren) has(ve) to live with this breakup for the rest of their lives and unless you take care, you may do irreversible damage to your relationship with them unwittingly and unknowingly.

If it is possible, try to maintain a civil facade in front of the child(ren) and, above all, never let them have reason to think that it may have been their fault that their parents fell out of love. If you are unsure of how to make this happen, talk to a professional about the best way of dealing with the situation. Remember, where there is a child or children involved, you are of secondary importance to their emotional wellbeing. Our children are our future and this should never be forgotten, especially in the face of such a devastating situation.

To be an adult who holds no feelings towards her own biological father - I don't hate him but I don't like him either - well, it makes me feel inadequate to this day. I know I should not feel like this but it is the legacy I have been left with. I can only hope that I do not fail my daughter with what I see as my duty to ensure that she maintains a long and healthy relationship with her father.