I watched my dad die – then realised the kind of man he was

I was at my dad’s bedside when he died. 

I was the only one of his four children there. My siblings had all cut off my parents years ago. 

My mother called me earlier that evening and I made my way to the hospice. I’d known this moment was coming for two years – since my mum had told me that dad had stage four cancer.

Dad was gone, and while I didn’t think it at the time, this meant I was finally free of the controlling and manipulative behaviour that defined my relationship with both parents. 

That very unbearable treatment was on display a few weeks later, when, after the funeral, my mum implied I was somehow eager to find out the contents of dad’s will.

The accusation hurt me deeply and all contact ended with her just over 12 months later. She never got in touch after I stopped phoning her.

The final straw which led to me ending our relationship was when she told me ‘I’m not the mother of the person you’ve become’ when I was in the middle of a mental health crisis. 

I couldn’t take any more, after years of emotional abuse, that I now understand was the reason that my siblings were estranged.  

One parent was dead, and now the other, who was mean and spiteful, was discarding me.

My relationship with my parents has always been challenging. They were very strict Catholics and I struggled to meet their high standards.

It had been drilled into me to comply with all my parents’ requests, even down to what house I bought, where I lived and what profession I chose. 

I thought that I deserved all their criticism for being overweight, socially awkward, having no friends, and how untidy I was. I thought they were just trying to make me a better person.

I even hid the man I was dating from them. I’d witnessed how my dad had reacted when my sisters had introduced boyfriends to him – very critical and superior. 

Over a number of years, my siblings became estranged from my parents and, by extension me, as I was the only one still in contact with our mum and dad.

My siblings were all close to one another in age, whereas there was a big gap to me as the youngest. It made things harder, and their outlooks were very different. 

It meant I maintained a relationship with my parents long after they had cut them off. 

But in 2021, I got the call that changed everything. ‘Your dad is gravely ill,’ my mum said. 

Despite three rounds of chemotherapy, it was clear dad was not getting better.

I’d stay at their house for weeks at a time, working remotely to be close to him, but sometimes that did more harm than good. Mum even wrongly accused me of infecting him with chicken pox. 

Eventually my parents asked me to reach out to my siblings to ask them to visit, so that dad could die in peace.

My older sister Patricia*, who lived close by, declined. My elder brother, Brian*, visited my dad in hospital once and did not stay long. He had never got along with our dad and had left home as soon as he could.

And my oldest sister, Clodagh*, who I hadn’t seen in over 20 years, arrived hours after he died, so missed saying goodbye. 

She left without seeing the rest of the family.

I thought my siblings were uncaring. I hadn’t seen them in so long that we were basically strangers. 

I was saddened that they didn’t visit, but even as adults my parents could press their buttons. In hindsight, my siblings were doing what I should have done years before. 

The only immediate family officially in attendance at the funeral were my mum and me. Sitting in the back row in the shadows was Patricia. But we did not speak to one another, as she left before us.

I would have felt angry if she had acted like nothing had happened.

A few months later, feeling down and alone after the end of my relationship, I reached out to Patricia.

To my delight, she was willing to talk, and what she said changed my whole perspective. 

Patricia finally explained that the reason she was estranged from our parents was because dad reacted badly when she finally addressed their behaviour. She said that they behaved like they owned us and that our mother was very suspicious of us no matter what we did.

It was a lightbulb moment. 

For years my parents had controlled every aspect of my life. It wasn’t healthy and abruptly stopped following the death of my dad.

Sadly, things got worse before they got better. 

Six months after the funeral, I had a mental health crisis, brought on by the stress and anxiety caused by the situation. 

At the beginning of my illness, my mother had visited me, and I finally told her how I felt, expressing all the emotions I had kept below the surface for so long. 

I asked her for help and to stay with her because I was scared to be alone. But instead she blocked my phone number and threatened to call the police if I turned up at her house. 

She disowned me. 

I tried to reach out to my siblings, but that too did not end well.

Brian would answer emails with brief replies, but it didn’t last long. 

I asked Patricia if Clodagh wanted to get in touch but she didn’t. I realised from our calls that Patricia  had a very negative view of me and told me I was not a very nice person. 

I don’t speak to any of my siblings or my mother any more. 

Patricia sometimes texts my mum, but about very superficial things, she told me in our calls, before they ended.

I have no ill will towards my siblings. I think we have all struggled and just want to move on. 

After so many years, I finally understood the toxic family dynamic I endured. 

My only regret is that I let my parents cast a shadow over my life for so long.

Like my siblings, I should have cut them off decades earlier. 

*Names have been changed 

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing Ross.Mccafferty@metro.co.uk. 

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