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For a long time, I felt unwanted and like a disappointment to my dad because I was not a boy. Growing up, I was always excited for my birthday, but he would always forget about it, despite it being just 11 days after his own. I never felt acknowledged as someone important. But the biggest blow came when I found out that he had betrayed my mom and was seeing a low-class woman he wanted to replace her with before she died. And to add insult to injury, I found out that he had cheated on my mom while she was in the hospital dying, with me sitting next to her bed and my less than 6-month-old baby left in the care of my husband 400km away.

For a long time, I carried around a lot of anger and resentment towards my dad. I felt like he had let me down in every possible way and had failed as a father. But as time went on, I realized that this mindset was only hurting me. Holding onto these negative emotions was not serving me in any way, and it was time to let them go.

The turning point for me came when I stopped calling him “Dad” in my mind, and then eventually stopped calling him “Dad” in WhatsApp messages. It was a small but significant step towards changing my mindset. By no longer referring to him as “Dad,” I was taking away the power that this title held over me. I was no longer defining my relationship with him based on what I thought a “Dad” should be, but rather on who he was as a person.

I vividly remember him asking me why I don’t call him “Dad” anymore. At that moment, I felt nothing. It was as if I had detached myself from the emotional weight that this word had carried for so long.

Rather than viewing my father solely as my DAD, I came to see him as a flawed individual who had concealed his authentic self from everyone, even himself. He was someone who had never experienced being alone and perhaps rushed into a relationship with my mother shortly after his previous engagement ended.

Changing my mindset about my dad has helped me to let go of the pain and hurt that I once carried with me – for the most part. I may never fully understand why he made the choices that he did, but I have come to accept that they were his choices to make.

In the end, changing my mindset about my dad has not only helped me to heal but has also given me a new perspective on life. It has taught me that sometimes we need to let go of our preconceived notions and definitions of people in order to truly see them for who they are. And that by doing so, we can find the peace and healing that we need to move forward.

This will be the second Christmas without my Ouma Sannie. I have been thinking of her quite a bit these last few weeks. I was named after her and now I am the last Susann(a) Deysel in my family.

My Ouma passed away last year June/July. (You have to excuse me because the last 3 years my life have been a blur and I can’t remember dates.) She was healthy-ish – other than the diabetes, blood pressure, cholesterol and kidney issues. She died because she was old, brooumake her hip/leg connection and it was just so painful that she couldn’t stay longer.

I still remember the call from my parents to tell me she had a fall and they will let me know what the doctors had to say. That second call took ages to come through, but when it did I was devastated.

Sannie, the strong Ouma that fed 30 children and grandchildren at one sitting without breaking a sweat; the Ouma that took the grandchildren hunting; the Ouma that made lappoppe and had a private library full of Susanna M Lingua (?) books; Sannie, my ginger Ouma, got old and simply wanted to take a bath, took a tumble and broke bones that would never grow back.

Ouma was bedridden for just over 2 weeks. The whole family went to say their goodbyes. We drove through twice so I could see her. She faded quite quickly with my mom and one of her daughters by her side. The message came through at 7:02 on a Tuesday – that, I can remember.

That Saturday she was laid to rest next to my Oupa Louis in the warm earth in the town where they sold their produce, had friends, send their children to school and went to church. Her funeral wasn’t from the church they used to attend, there was a wedding.

The world went on with life that Saturday, but there was one family with 1 sister, 2 sons, 4 daughters, 6 spouse, 14 grandchildren and 6 great grandchildren that said goodbye to my Ouma.

Today I felt like I needed time with Ouma. The closest I could get was to order her favourite junk food, hot wings from KFC.