I was talking to  friend about when my father died a year or so back. My mother had died a few years before.

My father was into drugs, was a narcissist, chauvinist, alcoholic, used to beat mother, and basically was a character I very much disliked. He once told us when we were young that he wanted nothing to do with us children (me and my 6 sisters) until we could party with him and get stoned etc.

I used to drink, even did the party scene for a while, but have always hated drugs. Dad would grow his own drugs, he was a person who I really didn’t want to be myself.

Dad had many vintage Harley Davidsom motorcycles, where they are now I have no idea. The earliest one was a 1917 Harley Davidson. He also had 40 acres of native bush land up in Whangarei that would be worth a fortune when Dad passed away. Dad had many tools and other stuff, and probably money as well.

My friend was shocked when I told him that I received nothing when Dad died. The reason was that dad and I didn’t get on for decades. I didn’t hate him, but I didn’t like him, or what he was like as a father, or his drug habits, domestic violence and so on. He is still fondly liked in Tokoroa where I live, because a lot of people didn’t know the real man, they only knew the image Dad gave to people.

In order to get what was in Dad’s Will I would have had to be like him, someone he could get stoned with, party with, treat women with disrespect and so on – and those things are just not me, so I was unable to be the son that he always wanted, and to him I am sure, I was a failure, the son that he did not want. Dad did not have a conscience, and I guess he was disappointed that I did have a conscience.

The point that I am making, is that to be a part of his Will as his only son, I would have had to be like him for many decades. So, when Dad died I already knew that I was not in his Will, so I was not surprised, but many others were.

And I have no regrets for being who I am and refusing to be like Dad. I wouldn’t have taken all the money int he world to be like my father or my mother were, neither were good parents and both lived only for themselves.

I didn’t cry when either died, because I didn’t like either of them because of how they were as people and how they treated us children. I was disappointed that they were not better parents, and I prayed for them. But I have never missed them because there was nothing to miss.

Its sad to some degree, but I learned years ago, that just because people are related biologically, they still don’t have to be people who you love, or like, or get on with – they are jsut people who are related to you and your family – whats really important is who they are, how they treat you and their real-character, the character that only the family see, their real person who they are.

One day I imagined I was not related to either of my parents and I asked myself, “If I met them in life, would I ever be a friend of theirs?” and I realised that I would never have been a friend of the character that mother or father were, or some of my other relations.

Just because people are family does not mean that they love us, or will treat us with empathy, compassion and be good to us – and if we discover that they don’t treat us well it should be our free right to walk away from such people. Life is a lot nicer without people who don’t treat us with respect and who are not of the character we are.