Thanks to all who have responded to this topic and suggestions of books. I am finding it helpful to hear of others experiences as I have thought for many years that there is little heard about my generation from the children themselves. As I said originally I have been prompted by my fathers death to explore this further. As some of you have said some of these men were distant from their children, partly perhaps because of their war experiences, partly because of their upbringings and partly because, in my case, fixed ideas of what a daughter should be.
In addition to an all male upbringing my father was the eldest of three brothers, all of whom served in WW11. The middle brother was killed shortly before my first birthday and I have always felt that I grew up in the shadow of his death. My mother spoke fondly of him and my memories of Remembrance Day are of standing between Mum and Dad with Mum weeping and Dad ashen faced.
My father was very conservative in all senses of the word. One of the phrases I was brought up with was "be good sweet maid and let who will be clever" which was an injunction to be obedient, conform and not question, all of which I found impossible to do! We had many clashes as I became a teenager in the early sixties. Such an exciting time for an inquisitive outgoing personality who has always been guided by the word "Why?"!
My brother was born when I was six and his experience was very different. They had made the adjustment after the war and he was a boy. Boys were always more important than girls in my family.
My parents were robbed of their youth by the war and I think all they wanted to do once it was over was get back to how things were before they were separated. My father was a chartered accountant and I found the late 50's a stultifying time and longed to be free and explore. I got married at 21 to an artist, had my darling first daughter nine months later and we went to Africa where he taught art. I had my first son in Zambia but the marriage did not last and I remarried to a man who at that time was a member of the ANC and
had another daughter. Due to the political situation at that time we had to leave Zambia in a hurry as his life was under threat and we all came to the UK where I had two more children. My parents helped me financially at this time as we returned only in the clothes we stood up in and I have always been very grateful for the help which they provided then.
However, in my fathers will he has left nearly everything to my brother and his wife on the grounds that he helped me nearly 40 years ago. He made my brother and sister in law executors of the will and told them not to tell me the contents. They have been keeping it a secret for 14 years. They told him that they strongly disagreed with what he had done as they understood my needs at that time but he would not discuss it. They have said that they will make sure that everything is divided equitably, (it is a sizeable estate) and it has brought us closer together, but I have been very shocked and distressed. It is not about the money, although of course it will be welcome, but more about how my father felt about me. I have always known that we were very different but I had thought that we had reached some sort of peace over the years. It now appears that he never did. He told me years ago that I had always been a disappointment to him and it feels that this is his way of showing his disapproval.
I don't feel angry with my father, I think those feelings went years ago, I just feel that it is a terrible tragedy for us both. How I longed to be appreciated for who I was and to be encouraged to explore and develop. I felt very lonely at home as a child. It's complicated because I am grieving for the father I had but at the same time grieving for the father I never had.
I have good friends who I can share this with, but I am struggling to make sense of it without completely losing my sense of self worth. I haven't been on this forum for long but have been so impressed by the care shown to one another. Sorry for the length but can't write any more now as I can't see the keys through the tears.