Thirty-five years ago, the only way I could get a Christmas message to my three children was to pay for the following to be published in the island’s newspaper.
I have just spent a day searching for Christmas
presents for my three children. The burden of the task has been on my mind for
weeks. As I feared, it was a fruitless day and I came home empty-handed. Money
was not the restraint, nor the selection of toys. The problem was one of
circumstances.
My children are aged three, five and six, against
their wish, are separated from me through a marriage that ended in divorce.
Father Christmas, no matter how laden with toys, cannot substitute my
children’s right to a real father. Even the toys lovingly created for them by
my own hand - as they always used to be - cannot fill the void needlessly
created in their lives.
But against overwhelming odds, some measure of
justice prevailed. A few months ago, the court awarded them what was to have
been their real Christmas present - a better deal. But the order was never
allowed to take effect. The present was taken from them before they had a
chance to experience it.
A child's fairy-tale world demands miracles,
especially at Christmas. They expect immediate results, with angels and bright,
shining lights. Their reasoning takes no account of court orders, the mischief
of lawyers and the conniving of government ministers. All they know is that,
for some unaccountable reason, love for them manifests itself in restrictions,
resentment and revenge.
“I wish you a Merry Christmas..." in the
circumstances, even the message on the cards is a fallacy. They cannot honestly
be sent. My children can do better. On the card my son made at school for
Father's Day, he drew a picture of an exploding volcano!
Perhaps for Christmas, they will show similar
insight. The story of Jesus, if honestly told, would do quite well. Beneath the
façade of romanticized stables, cute nativity plays and comforting carol
services, nothing has changed.
I'm so sorry my sweethearts...Love Daddy
The story of my fight for access is told in my book: For the Sake of the Children.
The book is my personal account of parental alienation. There are millions of similar cases worldwide, but mine has the distinction of being one of the worst. My story begins on an island in the Caribbean forty years ago and continues up to the present. My fight for the right of my children to have access to their father was fought under the most difficult circumstances. Other than to attend court hearings, I was for the most part forbidden to set foot on the island that was their home, and which had previously been my home. By fighting for a basic human right, I was deemed an undesirable person and a menace to the public good. For a period of five years, I had to wage my campaign from the cabin of a small boat while sailing from island to island. The term parental alienation had only just been coined when my problems began. There were no books on the subject and no guidance for those expected to advise and judge.
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