Mummy Where Are You? (Revised Edition, new) by Jeanne D'Olivier Page B
Authors: Jeanne D'Olivier
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and fill her in on some of the details but I should go on trying to find a lawyer to take the case forward in the meantime.
My aunt and uncle picked my father up from the airport and dropped him at the house on the Sunday. He was angry with them for not giving us more support and for throwing us out of their home. However, the practical offer of a lift from the airport when I had no transport was accepted. It was, he felt the least they could do for family. So long as they didn’t enter my home, I was fine with it. They had made their feelings clear when they had not only abandoned us on the highway but on meeting the friends who had rallied around me on the fateful day they took M, had said “well, of course, we only know one side of the story.” It had cut me like a knife – there was only one side of the story – the truth and that was the side I had given them and yet they were not prepared to listen or accept without question the testimony of one of their own.
My mother had never liked her brother much. He had been an arrogant and bullying man all his life, much like her own father. He did not treat my aunt kindly and was an extreme chauvinist. He went to church on Sundays, but he certainly didn’t practice his faith.
Members of my own family had offered little understanding or support and my siblings - my other brother and sister, were angry at the stress our situation had placed on my mother - particularly my older sister. I think they felt our situation had caused her to have the stroke that had killed her only six months earlier and from which we were still grieving. But Mum, despite problems of her own, one of them drink, had always loved all of her family. It would have hurt her deeply to know that they had turned against me when I needed them most and we all turned to her with our problems. My brother and sister included. Their judgement of me was very severe and painful, but not unusual in these circumstances as I was to go on to learn. It is a testament to the power of the juggernaut that many families are ripped apart who go through this process. It is very hard for those who have not experienced the machinations of this evil force to fully understand. The majority of people live under the illusion that the establishment is there to serve not destroy what is good. I wondered what they would have done put in the same situation. To be kind, they were both far removed from anything even remotely akin to what we were experiencing. My brother had no children and my sister’s children had been predominantly raised by nannies. As is often the case, I found more love and support amongst strangers, than relatives.
Dad arrived looking tired and equally bereft. Whilst my anger was still present, it was replaced by the fact that we shared in our loss. I did shout at him in moments of pure anguish, but he was as beaten as I was and I think he felt guilty himself, although he may never admit it. He had to live with what he had done which was punishment enough. We had to get past the betrayal and work together to bring M home. We only had each other.
Neither of us slept. We paced the house at night. I watched endless night time television – rubbish – just blobs on a screen to try to distract myself from my pain, but nothing helped. I drank wine to try and numb my feelings and to try and sleep – but again I remained sober and in agony. I longed for M with every fibre of my being. I fretted constantly about how he was. I was soon to find out.
On the Wednesday morning before Court, the CAS offered to let me have one hour of supervised contact at the CAS building. Nothing could have prepared me for what I would then witness.
My father
My aunt and uncle picked my father up from the airport and dropped him at the house on the Sunday. He was angry with them for not giving us more support and for throwing us out of their home. However, the practical offer of a lift from the airport when I had no transport was accepted. It was, he felt the least they could do for family. So long as they didn’t enter my home, I was fine with it. They had made their feelings clear when they had not only abandoned us on the highway but on meeting the friends who had rallied around me on the fateful day they took M, had said “well, of course, we only know one side of the story.” It had cut me like a knife – there was only one side of the story – the truth and that was the side I had given them and yet they were not prepared to listen or accept without question the testimony of one of their own.
My mother had never liked her brother much. He had been an arrogant and bullying man all his life, much like her own father. He did not treat my aunt kindly and was an extreme chauvinist. He went to church on Sundays, but he certainly didn’t practice his faith.
Members of my own family had offered little understanding or support and my siblings - my other brother and sister, were angry at the stress our situation had placed on my mother - particularly my older sister. I think they felt our situation had caused her to have the stroke that had killed her only six months earlier and from which we were still grieving. But Mum, despite problems of her own, one of them drink, had always loved all of her family. It would have hurt her deeply to know that they had turned against me when I needed them most and we all turned to her with our problems. My brother and sister included. Their judgement of me was very severe and painful, but not unusual in these circumstances as I was to go on to learn. It is a testament to the power of the juggernaut that many families are ripped apart who go through this process. It is very hard for those who have not experienced the machinations of this evil force to fully understand. The majority of people live under the illusion that the establishment is there to serve not destroy what is good. I wondered what they would have done put in the same situation. To be kind, they were both far removed from anything even remotely akin to what we were experiencing. My brother had no children and my sister’s children had been predominantly raised by nannies. As is often the case, I found more love and support amongst strangers, than relatives.
Dad arrived looking tired and equally bereft. Whilst my anger was still present, it was replaced by the fact that we shared in our loss. I did shout at him in moments of pure anguish, but he was as beaten as I was and I think he felt guilty himself, although he may never admit it. He had to live with what he had done which was punishment enough. We had to get past the betrayal and work together to bring M home. We only had each other.
Neither of us slept. We paced the house at night. I watched endless night time television – rubbish – just blobs on a screen to try to distract myself from my pain, but nothing helped. I drank wine to try and numb my feelings and to try and sleep – but again I remained sober and in agony. I longed for M with every fibre of my being. I fretted constantly about how he was. I was soon to find out.
On the Wednesday morning before Court, the CAS offered to let me have one hour of supervised contact at the CAS building. Nothing could have prepared me for what I would then witness.
My father
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