She Could Not Forgive My Dad Even After 12 Years

My parents divorced when I was thirteen. According to my dad, it was a situation they could have resolved together, but my mom took a firm stance and left the marriage. One morning, she told my dad she was going to visit her family for a week and would return home. When she left, she took my two older brothers with her, leaving me and my older sister behind. A week turned into months, and my mother never came back. Eventually, she sent a message through a third party to my dad, stating she was done with the marriage and wouldn’t return.

My dad responded by sending a message back, apologizing and asking her to come home. To make a long story short, my mother never returned. She insisted on a divorce, which was finalized a few months later. She made it clear that she would keep my two brothers, while my dad should take care of me and my older sister, who was fifteen at the time. That’s my dad’s account of the events leading to their divorce.

My mom’s version of the story had a different angle. She claimed that my dad had gotten another woman pregnant without telling her. She learned about it through rumors and confronted him, but he denied it until one evening when he finally admitted the truth. Additionally, she mentioned that my dad had a temper that she couldn’t tolerate. Although he never physically harmed her, there were many instances where he threatened to do so over trivial matters. Thus, it wasn’t just the infidelity that led her to leave; his temper and the constant threat of violence also played a significant role.

Recently, I asked my dad what happened to the woman he got pregnant, and he replied, “She gave birth, but unfortunately, the child didn’t survive. She died a week later, and I suspect your mom had a hand in the child’s death.” When I inquired why he thought my mom was involved, he said, “Don’t you know your mom is a witch? She killed the baby spiritually.” He laughed as he said this.

My mom remarried a year after the divorce, but my dad remained single. He may have had girlfriends, but he had been alone since then.

When my mom decided to keep my older brothers, my dad pleaded with her to bring them back and take us since we were younger girls. Mom refused, stating, “What use are female children that I should pick and leave the males for you?” So, she kept the boys, and since she remarried quickly, my dad couldn’t visit them.

I remember my dad struggling to care for us alone. He had always had a wife to help with the caretaking, and suddenly she was gone. Unsure of what to do, he reached out to his older sister, who was living in the UK, to come for us. I was fifteen and in my first year of senior high school when my aunt arrived for me. A year later, my older sister joined us. My mom was unaware of this because she had stopped contacting us. We stayed in constant touch with our dad, who motivated us and helped us choose our future careers. Our aunt did everything she could to ensure we had the best life possible. She had no husband or children, so we became her everything.

It was during my graduation in 2018 that my dad first visited us in the UK.

He looked older and frailer, but he was still the same dad I had always known—funny and comforting. Throughout this time, we hadn’t heard anything from our mother. I had no idea where my older brothers were, and whenever I asked my dad, he said they seemed to have disappeared. He didn’t know either.

After graduation, I returned to Ghana with my father and decided to search for my mother. That’s when I discovered that my dad had all the information about her but chose not to contact her because she had remarried. He was still hurt that she left him for another man. He didn’t look for her not because he didn’t know where she was, but because he didn’t want to see her and feel miserable since he still loved her.

When I finally found my mom, I cried. She didn’t recognize me, but I recognized her because she had always been in my memories. In her living room, with her husband sitting next to her, she asked, “My lady, they say you were looking for me. I hope you bring good news. Which of my two boys is your boyfriend?” They both laughed while I sat there with tears in my eyes. I said, “Mom, this is Efe, your youngest daughter. Don’t you recognize me?” Her eyes widened in shock, and she exclaimed, “Efe? You mean you’re my daughter Efe?” She jumped up and hugged me so tightly that I could barely breathe.

She asked, “Where have you been? Your dad decided to hide you two from me, but what is mine can’t be lost. Where is your older sister? Is she as beautiful as you are now?” At that point, her husband excused himself so we could talk privately.

I shared with her where we had been and what I had accomplished. I told her about my sister and her aspirations of becoming a lawyer. I also mentioned how my dad had aged and become frail. I noticed her mood shift from happiness to contemplation. She said, “This is where I settled after your father left me and your two brothers to fend for ourselves. Thankfully, I met this honest man, and we got married. He has been the one taking care of me and your brothers.” I asked about my brothers, and she told me that the older one was a teacher in Accra and the younger one was a footballer.

I took her number and gave her mine.

When I returned home, my dad asked, “How is your mom? I hope you found her happy.” I replied, “Yes, she was happy to see me, and I was thrilled to see her after all these years—twelve years?” He asked, “Did she ask about me?” I said, “She inquired about my older sister.” He looked away, as if he didn’t belong in the same space we were in.

Since that visit, my mom has called me every day, sharing everything she missed while being away. I also gave her my sister’s number. They talk daily, and she even sends her money and other gifts. I met my older brother, the teacher, while traveling back to the UK. He had become a man—broad-shouldered and bearded like Moses from the Bible. I couldn’t meet the footballer because he was always in training.

Back in the UK, my mom called me one day and said something that made me feel unwanted and angry. She said, “You should be grateful to me and not your dad. When I was pregnant with you, your dad wanted me to abort you because he wasn’t ready for a fourth child. I stood my ground despite threats and cold treatment from him until you were born. He didn’t like you, but I was there for you.” I discussed this with my sister, who made jokes about it, so I called my dad to ask him. He replied, “Why is your mom telling you this now? To turn you against me? Yes, I said that because we weren’t in a position to have another child. I meant no harm.”

Every day, my mom called with different stories about my dad’s supposed wrongdoings. As a woman, I wouldn’t want any man to treat me the way my mom claimed my dad treated her. She insisted it was his idea for us to be separated from her. After sharing all this, she would often ask me to send her money. My dad never called us unless we reached out, and he never asked for money, but my mom always ended her calls with a request for financial help.

It soon became clear what my mom was trying to do—turn us against our dad and draw us closer to her. One day, I called my dad and told him everything, suggesting he apologize to my mom, thinking it might resolve the issue. He said, “I apologized when she wanted to leave. She didn’t listen, so there’s no need to do it again. The damage is done. You need to learn from this. When you get married, don’t walk away when problems arise, or you’ll face the same issues I have. Don’t repeat my mistakes, but let your mom do her worst. I’ve forgiven myself, so no one can label me guilty.”

Two years later, my mom still calls us to talk about our father and the things he supposedly did to her. My older sister has cut her off completely; she doesn’t answer her calls or send her anything. She’s bitter about it and believes it’s my dad’s fault. I’m now married and managing my own family, but my mom continues to call and discuss my dad. I’m exhausted. I’ve tried my best, but it seems I’m also giving up on her. Soon, she might lose me, and I’ve warned her about it. She responded, “I should have known your father’s blood runs through you, so you can’t turn out any differently. But I’m your mother. I’m not cursing you, but if you’re not careful, your husbands will treat you the same way your dad treated me, so you’ll understand how it hurts.”

Do you think my mom will ever forgive my dad and stop talking about him?

I don’t know, but she will die a sad death if she leaves this world without forgiving him. He’s a good man and lives in peace—he has moved on. I wish my mom could do the same, but she prefers to fight a battle that ended long ago. She wants to use us as weapons against my father. A few weeks ago, she called me, and I didn’t answer. I plan to continue this way until she changes her mind.

—Efe,  
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