WALKING into my local supermarket with my shopping list, I spot my dad in the checkout queue and abruptly turn around and leave.
The sight of him sickens me because I haven’t spoken to him for three months now and I can’t imagine ever doing so again.
Up until six months ago we were incredibly close. United in after the death of my mother, Elaine, from in January 2024.
She was 53 when she was diagnosed, and for two long years, we put our hearts and souls into making the last months of life the best they could be.
Well, I thought we had – it turns out that my dad hadn’t.
He’d started an affair with one of his plumbing customers in the last two weeks of her life.
Within days of her funeral, he’d started dating numerous other women too and I’ll never forgive him for the betrayal.
My mother wouldn’t either – she’d be turning in her grave.
His hypocrisy as he played the grieving widower is beyond belief. I’m now 32 and consider myself an orphan.
My parents had always seemed like such a solid couple – they were each other’s first loves after getting together as teens at school, and they were happy.
Within days of her funeral, he’d started dating numerous other women too and I’ll never forgive him for the betrayal
Sarah
Mum was more outgoing, she was a hairdresser like me and always had loads of .
Dad was more steady, very dependable and always fixing something around our four-bedroom house in Southampton when he wasn’t at work.
They weren’t rich, but me and my brother Luke, 29, and Rachel, 26, wanted for nothing and loved our .
After leaving home, all of us siblings stayed living in Southampton. We were a close family, meeting up regularly and having together.
My parents went away twice a year, but always to the same places Salou on the Costa Dorada and a week at a holiday let in Cornwall.
I used to joke that they were unadventurous; Mum would have had fun anywhere, but Dad didn’t like change.
‘World fell apart'
But in January 2022, our safe and steady world fell apart. Mum was diagnosed with bowel cancer – it had spread already and was classed as incurable.
They told her they’d try chemotherapy but her outlook wasn’t good and she might only have a year left.
To start with, she responded well to treatment and we desperately hoped she’d beat the odds.
We all rallied round, Dad went to every appointment with her, and us siblings worked out a rota so one of us could drop round with a meal or some shopping every day.
It was hard, as a mum of two – I’ve got an eight-year-old daughter and a five-year-old son – but I desperately wanted to help. My husband, Dan, 37, stepped up and between us we managed.
Mum outlived the year mark and we dared to hope she’d live many more. But sadly a scan six months later showed the cancer had spread again and it was only a matter of time.
I’m now 32 and consider myself an orphan
Sarah
She fought it so hard but as the weeks passed she was fading away in front of us.
In the last few weeks of her life Dad insisted he could look after her at home.
She had a hospital bed downstairs. We all wanted to help and a couple of times Dad asked me to step in as he had a regular customer who had trouble with her boiler. I was happy to.
Mum died peacefully at home, with all of us there on January 3, 2024.
Dad seemed bereft. I’d stay over a couple of times a week to keep him company and we all helped to organise the funeral – he couldn’t seem to face it.
Her funeral was devastating, it passed in a blur. My abiding memory is sitting in the car on the way to the service, my dad looked grey and shrunken and my heart broke for all of us.
My mum had been central to everything, I couldn’t imagine life without her. She was only 55 when she passed. She loved life, she adored her five grandchildren. She fought so hard and now she was gone.
For the next few months I did everything I could to help dad. My siblings did too and neighbours would drop round meals for him.
‘Lewd messages'
But in October it all changed. It was a lovely day so we decided to have a picnic on the beach. Once we were set up I realised I’d left my son’s water bottle in the car so went back to get it and spotted my Dad’s phone on the back seat.
I picked it up to take to him and halfway back it pinged with a message. I don’t know why but I looked at it. It was from Lynda and said: “I know today isn’t the day but I need to see you.”;
The phone was unlocked and I couldn’t help but click into the chat. It went back for months, as I scrolled I thought I was going to be sick – the messages started a couple of weeks before mum died. She joked about her boiler needing a seeing to.
There were messages from six other women too – clicking into those chats, they were filled with lewd messages from women who he'd clearly starting having sex with whilst mum lay dying and just a couple of days after she died.
At first I couldn’t believe it – he’d seemed so broken, but it was all there in front of me in black and white.
While he’d been nursing mum in her dying days he’d had sex with another woman
Sarah
Before she was even buried he was .
The betrayal was unbelievable. I felt so angry on Mum’s behalf – she’d be turning in her grave.
And as the anger grew, I was furious for myself too. I’d wanted to be there for him, I thought he was lost without Mum and needed to be surrounded by love.
I’d sacrificed being with my own kids to keep him company, yet this is what he was doing behind our backs.
That day, I was stunned. I didn’t confront him though he could tell I was upset and kept on asking me why.
I stopped going round so often, only going to keep up appearances when my siblings would be there too.
But on the anniversary of her death, it all spilled out. I hadn’t planned it, but it was just the two of us taking flowers to her grave.
I was missing Mum so horribly and I felt so close to her and though it sounds silly I wanted her to know – she didn’t deserve anything else happening behind her back.
I told him flatly that I knew what he’d been up to before Mum died. He tried to deny it by brushing me off with ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’. But when I told him I’d seen his phone he broke down and admitted it.
He said he’d felt so distressed by mum dying that it was an antidote. He swore he’d gone to mend the client’s boiler and it had just happened.
And then he admitted he’d signed up to just two days after she died to meet other women for sex. He blamed – a syndrome where widows and widowers feel an uncontrollable urge for sex following the death of a spouse.
But my mum hadn’t even died when it started. I looked at him and felt repulsed.
He wasn’t the man I thought he was. He not only in her dying days, but he was such a hypocrite afterwards. He pretended that he was helpless and needed us, when really he was playing around with other women.
I haven’t spoken to him since and I can’t imagine patching it up. I had to tell my siblings as they wanted to know why I refused to see him.
I didn’t want to lie to them – there had been enough of that. They were both appalled. Rachel doesn’t see him any more either, Luke does occasionally, but he knows he’s not welcome at family occasions.
It has been like two bereavements, the death of my beloved mum, and the death of the dad I thought I had.
It’s not that I didn’t expect him to – he’s only 55. But not while my mum was fighting for her life – that is unforgiveable.
All names have been changed
