When my father died, I evicted the woman he had lived with for 16 years from my flat.
Everyone is judging me!
Not long ago, my father passed away. Almost immediately after the funeral, I asked the woman my father had been living with for many years to leave the flat. Why? Because throughout the years, she had treated me terribly. So, why should I treat her kindly? I chose to treat her in the same manner she did me.
My mum died when I was only nine. She had cancer and passed away quickly. My dad was the sort of man who simply couldn’t be alone, so he started looking for another woman almost straight after Mum died. For much of my childhood, I lived with either my nan on my mums side or my gran on my dads. It wasnt unbearable, but deep down, I always wanted to grow up in one place.
Dad did introduce me to his lady friends on several occasions, but none of them stayed around for long. He was always hoping Id get on with these women, but I was convinced hed betrayed my mum and never really tried to befriend any of them.
Then, when I turned fourteen, Dad moved in with a woman named Harriet. At first I actually thought she was alright. She made an effort in the beginning and seemed friendly enoughuntil it became clear she was only nice to gain my trust. Then she started making her own rules and acting differently.
She always made me feel like I didnt matter, often picking fights with me and telling my father that I was the troublesome one while she played the good, generous partner. I argued with both of them, but Dad always believed Harriet over me. That really hurt. Dad didnt want me interfering in his life, and Harriet told him that her own daughter lived with her mother and caused no bother.
One day, Dad packed my things in the boot and drove me to my granshis mums place. It threw my life upside down: I had to change school and try to make new friends. At first, Dad visited me now and then, but eventually he stopped altogether.
Our relationship improved a little when I turned twenty. I started at university, and Dad even asked if Id like to move back in, but I said no and chose the halls instead. I hadnt seen Harriet in years, though I knew she still lived with Dadtheyd never married, though.
Later on, I got married myself and had a baby. Dad would visit us frequently, spending time with me and his grandson. Then he became seriously ill. After a stroke, he needed looking after. Harriet quickly made it clear she had to help her daughter with a new baby, so she left. So, I became Dads carer.
A month later, my father died. Harriet cried and shouted, insisting that I hadnt looked after him properly, that if shed cared for him, hed have fully recovered by now!
My husband and I sorted out the entire funeral. Harriet didnt contribute a single penny to the costs.
I arranged the wake as well, with lots of help from my mother-in-law. I later found out that Harriet never even went to Dads grave: all the flowers there had wilted, and if not for me, nobody would have tidied up.
After that, I went to see the solicitor. Half of the flat had belonged to my gran, and shed given it to me while she was still alive. Now Dads half became mine too.
I had absolutely no intention of letting Harriet stay in the flat. At first, she didnt believe me when I told her she had to leave. We rowed about it until I finally involved the police. They inspected the paperwork, and Harriet was made to leave my property. She shouted that shed take me to court and win. But I know for certain she hasnt a leg to stand on.
I was stunned when relatives told me my actions were cruel, unfair, even downright nasty. Why? Because Harriet is now telling everyone that its my fault Dad died, and that I only did all this to get the flat.
But I believe I did exactly the right thingand honestly, I just dont care what my relatives think of me.
If theres one lesson Ive learned from all this, its that sometimes, doing whats right for yourself means others will never understand your reasonsand youve got to live with that.
