When I was a small child, my dad left. For me it was a time of great confusion and upset. I saw my dad at weekends. The weekends became less and less and so did the communication. He rarely sent birthday cards or anything one might expect from a dad to his daughter. He worked in the Middle East for a little while and while he was there he sent me a birthday card and £6 – I thought I was rich! On return, he gave me a necklace made from tusk or bone, I am not sure.
As the years progressed we grew further apart and I decided as a teenager that it was probably best we didn’t keep in touch. That was over 25 years ago. When sorting out some things recently, I found the necklace, chipped and broken (rather aptly). I had kept it since the 1970s as one of the few gifts from my dad.
I am fine to let it go now as so much time has passed and I no longer need to cling on to evidence of my dad. J