'When my dad had an affair, my mother took him back. I still resent her for it.'

As told to Shannen Findlay. 

Dad was the life of every party. 

No family gathering could be complete without him. He was invited to every single 21st birthday party, even though he was deep into his thirties with a wife and two children. 

Everyone loved him. 

Which is why it came as a shock when he had an affair. Of all people, with his cousin's wife.

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We called her Aunty Roxy*. She had long teeth and silky hair and she was my mother's closest friend. They met in 2002 when their kids were learning to run and talk. They were new to their cities, away from their own mothers and as a result, they clung to each other for comfort, for love, for a mother's understanding. 

Because of their closeness, I spent a lot of time with Roxy's daughter, Sofia, and all of our afternoons and weekends were together. She wasn't just a random cousin. She was my friend, one of my best friends — before I even understood what the word really meant. 

Our parents were close, too. Sports games were either spent at their house or mine. The mothers taught their daughters to swim. The dads took their sons on camping trips. Sofia's grandparents were literally my grandparents too. 

Life was great. 

In the summer before I started kindergarten, the news came out about my father's affair.

They began sleeping together eight months before we all found out — but the flirting had been going on for years. According to my father, she'd been "throwing herself" at him from the moment they met. 

He'd resisted temptation until he couldn't anymore. Who could blame him? He was just a man at the end of the day. 

Mum kicked him out. He was forced to stay in a trailer park without a working stovetop or running water. 

Mum made him wait for three weeks before she took him back.

The three weeks were the happiest I'd ever been. 

Mum had been doting and kind (now I know she was keeping herself distracted). She'd laughed harder than she'd ever laughed. I didn't realise it was also the hardest she'd ever cried after she tucked us into bed. My mother was broken and I, naïve and stupid, had never been happier. 

My dad was just a man at the end of the day — he was right about that much. But my mum, she was magic. She held it together, smiled big and refused to let herself crumble. 

As years went by, my hatred for my father turned into an affectionate compassion. He was just a man. A stupid, silly man. 

But my feelings towards my mother were complicated. She was wonderful, compassionate, funny, beautiful. She didn't need to settle.

Back then, I didn't understand why she took him back. Yes, we may have gotten our family "back", but they were both angrier. For a while, they were both unkind. I didn't understand. 

Mum became hard and untrusting. She found it more difficult to make friends and keep them. 

My uncle shut down, moved out of state and left the kids with my aunty Roxy. She never said a word to my mother again. And I never saw my best friend Sofia again either. 

Everyone walked away from that experience with a broken heart but I walked away angry, too. 

Yes, my dad made a terrible decision but why did she forgive him? 

It was a question that played on a loop in my head throughout the years. 

Why did she take him back? Why? Why? Why? 

Sometimes I'd forget I was angry, but the feeling would always come back with a vengeance.

It's been over almost two decades since my father cheated on my mother and they're still together. 

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When my best friend got cheated on by her boyfriend of six months, I encouraged her to leave him. She didn't. It happened to my cousin a few years later with her partner and she stayed, too. They'd had a dog and a mortgage together. They'd built a good life she didn't want to let go of. They welcomed a baby last year. 

My point is, I resented my mother for staying with my dad without realising how much she leaned on him for support. They had two children, a home and entire lives they had left behind to make a new one together. 

I didn't understand before, but I get it a bit more now; affairs ruin almost everything but it is also possible to fix the wreckage. 

My dad still has work to do. Every day he has to prove himself to my mother and to his children. He's worked hard to build a life that makes me proud. 

But for all the work he has done and is yet to do, my mum has worked ten times harder. 

She's worked to forgive him, worked to be financially independent and worked to make sure her kids understand we don't need to stay with someone who betrays us. 

And she's worked even harder to prove to us (but mostly to herself) that she is not weak for staying. I was wrong to ever question that. 

The author of this story is known to Mamamia but has chosen to remain anonymous for privacy reasons.

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