I am Your Child
I am a child of
divorce.
My name is Justicinette. ("Very Little Justice" - actually,
that's not my real name.) I have two sisters. They too, are children of
divorce.
I live in the country
of
Papa loves me very
much. Dad loved my Mom (in French, "Maman").
Papa and Maman were together for more than 24 years.
One day, she wanted him to go away, "…back to
If you are a parent,
it may be, that I am your child?
My parent's divorce
became finalized in January of 1997 when I was thirteen (and when my sisters
were fifteen and eighteen) years old. This took place after nearly five years
of chaos - a hell for our Dad and much unhappiness for me. My mother was
granted primary placement, and although my father fought it with everything he
had, he lost literally everything. He tried to save our family. I realize now
that Papa was very courageous. I know he loves me (and my two sisters) more
than anyone else in his life.
Papa was forced to
return to live in
The French courts did
NOT take the facts into account. For example, I now know about Mom's mental
illness, like when she attempted suicide. Papa saved her life that day, then
stood by and gave her support.
Mom had been leading
the life of an adulteress, seduced by her university advisor - a mathematician
known mostly for his prowess in algebraic number theory. You know, one of those
theoretical "geeks" who "accomplish a lot of nothing very
useful".
That man is the head
of the Math department at "Trinity College" in Cambridge, England -
he's sometimes been seen on British TV "stealing the thunder" of
Mom's former "Stanford" office-mate, Mr. A.W. who has become a famous
fellow in his own right.
A.W. performed some
impressive intellectual gymnastics and managed to prove "Fermat's Last
Theorem". My Papa forgave that math-man, and my Mom, and stayed with her.
Funny, Mom always said that my Dad was the most intelligent man she'd ever met.
I don't know much more about that math-man, just that he was preparing to leave
HIS children. In the end, he is also responsible for OUR unhappiness. My Papa
suffered greatly because of him.
After Mom initiated
her divorce plans, the French family sided with her like a Scottish Clan. They
don't speak to my Papa anymore. They used to call him "son" and
"brother". Meanwhile, Dad's family has broken no ties and told no
lies.
Papa has been accused
of all sorts of crazy things that aren't true. Mom found people who were
willing to lie about them in writing: mostly her family, her friends. Who else
would? I know the truth.
Mom works for a French
computer software company, called Matra Datavision. She travels all over the world. She was gone a
lot before and during the divorce. She doesn't travel so much any more - I
guess because Papa is no longer around to help her the way he always did. Papa
loved her very much.
We still live in the
modern, five-bedroom house that Dad kept in perfect order (but that isn't
anymore). Maman now has three cars to choose from
(Dad's car included). There is a 5-acre yard (two hectares) filled with nearly
150 species of trees and shrubs that Dad planted with my late French
grandfather.
Maman earns a salary that is 5 times the
average French household wage, and yet she kept all of the money she and Dad
had accumulated together. Mom also keeps all of the rental income from an
apartment in Marseille (purchased with him many years ago). She receives money
from the French government (in
Dad always saw to it
that he and Mom had no indebtedness as a couple.
When it came to the
actual litigation, Dad was never allowed to speak during the process. His 250
letters and affidavits (which proved his status as a sober, non-violent,
hard-working, wise, good and adoring father were never read) - two judges
explained, they "…have no time for that." One judge literally told
him to "shut up" as Dad entered a hearing room (he'd not uttered a
sound) and was not allowed to comment after Mom stoically asked to have him put
out of my life.
One "lawyer"
was so dishonest, that Dad had to sue him for "legal malpractice" and
for over-billing. Dad won that case. His next two lawyers "practiced"
essentially the same "mafia-like" methods. One of the judges even
asked to be paid in order to obtain a favorable decision.
"Bien", you are a rich American? You know what you must
do to have custody of your children, "n'est-ce
pas"? Pretty scandalous, but maybe you know how things are in
Dad was ordered out of
our house and told to leave me. Dad got nothing.
Under French law, all
financial settlements are processed as a lawsuit that is separate from the
actual divorce proceedings. Dad has a very hard life now. He'll have to sue my
Mom (person he loved and mother of we, his children)
if he wants any of the things and money she has kept.
Papa told me that he
doesn't want money or things. He wants me and to love me. Papa is very alone
and very, very sad. I am sad too. I know why.
I am writing this
because I wish to see change. Change must occur to undo this insane, corrupt,
even non-functional justice system that has permanently altered my relationship
with my father. Their "flip of the coin" humanity has altered everything
for the duration of our lives, and life is all too short. He's now 49 years
old, and is 8000 miles and seven time zones away from me.
That corrupt system told him that he was at fault, to "get a
life" (to start life over again) without me. Dad is very angry (Dare I say, "pissed?").
They sent him the bill for the court costs. I know why.
Our family started out
in a fairly normal way. I remember watching children's programs on TV with Papa
(while smelling one of my Mom's half-burned pot-roasts in the air). I remember
being carried around on Papa's shoulders and playing with him in my child-sized
playhouse (he had designed it with working shutters and a miniature
"Dutch-door"). I also remember riding on "Prince-Noir"
(Black Prince) the wooden horse-swing he also built for me (which looked just
like the one he loved as a boy).
I do remember waiting
for Mom to come to play with me sometimes, but she had her work on her
mathematics for her computer programs. She often stayed late at her job or was
gone on her extended trips overseas. I do not know why.
Papa was always there
to take care of me (and everything else). Mom was very absent. Her employer
lied about all of that of course (because she was helping them to make
money-millions). We had a father-daughter relationship - firmly rooted for
growth.
A mother-daughter
relationship was sometimes possible.
As time went by, the
climate in our house became tense. I felt impending gloom and doom. It erupted
after a month-long family vacation to
Seven months later
(when I was an 8½-year-old), I followed my father around our house while he
packed his suitcase, taking only the personal belongings my mother would let
him have - which did not include me.
Papa had orders to
leave and was "given" two hours to arrive home from the
Thus began my Papa's weekend
visits. In his absence, he became a stranger to me, a curiosity. There were no
more leisurely afternoons playing with my dogs in the yard where he loved to
garden.
We now embarked on the
most exciting weekend trips appropriate for our ages: toy-stores, movies, and
malls. We sometimes came home empty-handed. I didn't care, because I just
wanted to be with my Papa. Then we went back to his small house (his modest,
rented living quarters, situated as near to us as was possible). I spent time
with him there until he dropped us off at home - never sure I would see him
until the next weekend arrived. The neighbors figured that he moved-in nearby
to "harass" my Mom. I know that he was there for, me.
A new set of rules was
imposed on our house. My mother accepted a "promotion" and was gone
even more frequently. Her maids and my sisters became my Mother; cooking,
cleaning, and disciplining me. My Dad was once the man of the house, but he
also did most of the cooking, cleaning and shopping - because Mom was gone so
much. He also disciplined me but offered me affection. He wanted Mama to spend
more time with us. Since then, my father is spoken of very little; I only heard
his name as he is being chastised or blamed for something or other, that never
happened, or that he didn't say.
Several times I've
burst into tears, overwhelmed by his absence and feeling a great sense of loss.
Each time, I was told to be strong, to be wise and quit feeling sorry for
myself. I was certainly not to shed tears in front of my French Grandmother
(who hated him, it seemed). I do not know why.
How ironic, I was told
not to display grief while I was told by my mother what a lousy father I had.
At this point our relationship had changed considerably. The man who came to
pick me up on weekends was no longer the strong, stable father I had known. I
sensed panic, helplessness and guilt coming from my Dad.
I pitied him for his
guilt and helplessness, while loving and idolizing him intensely. I hoped that
my Daddy would come home soon to defend my mother and siblings and would be
strong again.
All perceptions from
an 8½-year-old (…a 10 year old, …a 12½ year old).
My father and I lost
so much time. There were ordinary, routine moments that will never come
again. Moments a father and a child both have a right to - things a father
should be able to see and share with his children - and they
with him.
I am a grieving child
who aches for (her) father.
I'll soon be an adult
who bears the scars and the open wounds of separation and divorce. I do not
offer specific solutions for this problem; I am only articulating what I as a
child and what all children caught in the divorce process are experiencing and
cannot voice themselves.
Is this the outcome
that Mother really wanted for herself, for him, and for me?
To the fathers who
read this:
I AM YOUR CHILD. I
LOVE YOU. I NEED YOU! FIGHT FOR ME! NEVER GIVE UP!
NEVER…!
Copyright ©1997-2008 - Robert C.
Kuhmann - All Rights Reserved.