Story
A message about how Timmy and I came to be raised by our paternal grandparents, and our father's confession(s), and my recollections
This is the clearest account I can give of a private conversation my father had with me later in his life. He told me he had shared the same story with my brother Timmy a few years before Timmy passed away. I remember Timmy talking about it, quietly but with the kind of weight you don't forget.
At one point, my father asked why I had never confronted him. He wanted to be sure I understood what had happened and told me he regretted it all. He said the guilt had followed him for years.
With the help of his mother, who was our grandmother, my father carried out a deliberate plan to cut our biological mother out of our lives. This started when I was around two and a half years old, and Timmy was still a baby. Even though he admitted that our mother had been a good parent and a supportive wife, he said he wanted to start a new life with the woman who would become our stepmother. She was also his first cousin on his father's side. He didn't want to deal with child support, not to our mom or to his first wife, whom he also had failed to support. He knew his mother wouldn't demand anything from him, and she wanted us for herself. Shortly after my grandparents gained full custody, my father left their home...and us.
They had arranged things carefully. Our mother was sent to stay with her parents for a while, supposedly to help care for her father, who was sick at the time. While she was away, my father and grandmother told others that she had abandoned us. When she came back, they refused to let her see us. When she wanted to fight for custody, my father threatened her. One of those threats was that he would burn her parents’ house down while they were asleep. Fearing for her family’s safety, our mother gave up the fight. My father told me she knew what he was capable of.
My father told me that he had often mistreated her mentally and physically during their marriage. Some of what he admitted lined up with stories Timmy and I had already heard from other family members, including our paternal grandfather, who had witnessed more than he ever wanted to.
My father said he did love us, and he loved his mother too, but that he had been an addict and selfish. He admitted that he had manipulated his mother’s emotions and taken advantage of her willingness to help him. Our grandfather, Van D. Stafford, disapproved of all of it. He saw the pain it caused not only to our mother and her family, but to his own family as well.
My father said that our future stepmother had no idea what he had done. He had told her that he and our mother had agreed to divorce peacefully and that it had been decided that Timmy and I would live with our grandparents. The very next day after the divorce was printed in the newspaper, he married our stepmother.
You have to understand that my mom’s side of the family was very different from my dad’s. She grew up in a home filled with respect, peace, and quiet stability. Her family kept to themselves, avoided conflict, and truly lived by the values of their faith. My mom and her family weren’t used to people like my father and grandmother, and didn’t know how to respond.
While we were growing up, there were moments when our father would try to do better. I remember some times when he was sober and acted in a positive way. But most of our childhood, he struggled with alcohol and pills. On the outside, he kept up appearances, but on the inside, things were falling apart. It wasn’t until he reached his late fifties that he truly got sober and began trying to reconnect with us and with his grandchildren.
What It Comes Down To:
Despite everything, Timmy and I were fortunate to have our grandfather, Van. He was patient, steady, and kind. He never drank, never used drugs, and never raised a hand to us. We both loved him dearly.
Our grandfather never lied to us about our mother. He always spoke kindly of her and told us that she loved us. He would secretly save the letters she sent, even when our grandmother threw them in the trash. He made sure we saw them. Those letters were full of love. She never spoke badly about our father, our grandmother, or anyone else in the family. All she ever said was how much she loved us.
I miss my grandfather very much. And while I still have love for my father, that love is complicated. I do not need to make the past sound better than it was. The truth is important. None of us is perfect, but some choices cause lasting harm. Those choices deserve to be named.
As of 2024, my mother is still living. Our relationship is strong, and we are doing our best to make up for lost time. For many years, she's been living the peace that she always deserved.
Tammy Stafford-Bellflower (April 23, 2024)