I was the best dad I could be – until my kids were taken halfway across the world

I did everything I could to be, and like to think I was, a good father (Picture: Getty)

Watching as my children played together, I smiled. Today was a perfect family outing.

I’d seen their faces light up at the sight of dinosaur bones at the Natural History Museum. Now they were having fun collecting twigs in Hyde Park.

There were no screens or phones. Just me and my kids having an idyllic day out.

I was sad. Because I knew that in just a few short weeks they’d be taken from me.

It all started in October 2011, when my then wife said ‘I want to go home.’ 

We had been together nearly 15 years and had three children, all under 13, but our bond was weakening. 

A lot of it had to do with cultural differences – I’m British and she is from another country – so ‘going home’ would mean her living on the other side of the world, thousands of miles away.

And she wanted to take our children with her. I refused.

If my wife wanted a separation or divorce then fine, but I did not want my children to leave the UK.

They were safe here, they had two loving parents in their lives, they had everything they needed. 

Frankly, I needed them. 

I did everything I could to be, and like to think I was, a good father.

On weekends I made sure we went out to do something special like hit the coast or head to Legoland. ‘Sunday funday’, as we called it.

But my wife’s mind was made up and a short time later, I received a family court summons. 

I fell to my knees and cried out as a sudden sense of loss slammed into me

My wife had filed a ‘leave to remove’ case – the means by which a parent seeks court permission to permanently move their children out of England or Wales, when the other parent does not agree to it.

Holding the paper in my hand I expected to feel angry or sad, but I didn’t. 

To me it was just a symbol of the long battle to come.

Determined not to let my children go without a fight, I researched UK family law and learned that these cases were looked upon very favourably by the courts.

In fact, a University of Central London analysis showed that 82.4% of sampled leave to remove cases submitted by a married parent were approved. 

I knew then that my case would be a difficult one. Even so, it still came as a surprise when, on the first day, the judge told me I should ‘prepare for the eventuality of losing’.

Sure enough, at the end of three days of hearings, the judge issued her order – my wife’s application to remove the children permanently from the UK had been approved.  

One day I was a father living with three children in his life; the next I was alone in an empty house

What hurt even more though was what the judge wrote in her summary. 

‘It is likely that the relationships between the father and the children will be extinguished.’

The cold clinicality of this term, ‘extinguished’, still hurts, but I was determined to make every second I had left with them count.

Taking them to the museum and the park in London was just one of our final adventures together.

We had so much fun and I was thankful that, though the children knew they would be leaving me soon, they were too young to truly understand what that meant.

My children’s last day in England came around far quicker than I liked.

After my breakfast, my wife arrived in a taxi.

‘It’s time to go’, she said to the children.

I followed them outside, and began my goodbyes. ‘I love you,’ I said as I hugged and kissed them one by one, and they echoed my sentiments.

Within 30 seconds they had disappeared from view and were gone.  

I went back inside the house, and fell to my knees and cried out as a sudden sense of loss slammed into me.   

One day I was a father living with three children in his life; the next I was alone in an empty house, and I knew things would never be the same again. 

How true that turned out to be, as, one thing that I came to learn about estrangement from young children, is that the process of emotional detachment happens quickly. 

What started as excited chatter whenever I called them became more subdued with each passing week and month. They had less and less to say each time but I hoped visiting them would help.

However, despite my wife agreeing to the judge’s order to be 100% financially responsible for the children (as is a requirement in leave to remove cases), she threatened to ban me from visiting the children unless I gave her money. 

I had no choice but to comply and I started paying her £800 each month meaning I didn’t have enough left over to plan visits.

All this only added to my grief. 

My job as a contractor in finance ended and I didn’t look for another. Instead I spent my days staring at the wall.

Eventually I had to get another job and so I started driving a taxi which earned me just enough to keep a roof over my head and make the payments to my wife. 

Gradually, visits and phone calls were not enough and, as predicted, my relationships with my children withered on the vine. 

For years I stumbled aimlessly along, until one day I realised that 10 years had got behind me. 

Enough was enough, I had to get out of the rut I was in, else my ‘lost decade’ would turn into 20 and grief and emptiness would consume the rest of my life. 

I came to accept that, in order to move forward, I had to leave the past behind, which meant accepting that, while I had once been a dad to three kids, and a family man, I was no longer this.

It’s been 11 years since I said goodbye to them on our front doorstep and while I have occasional contact with my son, I have almost no contact with his sisters.

I was right – things will never be the same.

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I fell to my knees and cried out as a sudden sense of loss slammed into me.