Chasing Charlie

The  crisp morning wind blew about wildly. A still silence encased the cemetery. There was an eery feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I read the words on my brothers headstone. Talon Aberwood - August 4, 1991 to April 26, 2015 - Gone But Not Forgotten. My blood boiled as I focused on the last line. It had been two years since my brother's death and our parents acted as if he never existed. They were quick to dispose of everything related to him. It wasn't just his things that they got rid of; they even went as far a destroying old family photos and baby albums.

I loathed my parents for that. Even in the weeks following his death they were going about their days as if nothing happened. Dad went back to work immediately and Mom chatted with her girlfriends about neighborhood gossip and the latest fashion trends. They went about their days happily. It wasn't much later when they told me Mom was pregnant. They insisted Talon would want us to move on and be happy. That was the last time they spoke of him.

Now, I am an older sister to  two 18-month-old twin boys and a 3-month-old baby girl. My parents didn't waste any time constructing a brand new life. My therapist told me that was their way they were coping with the loss of Talon; that they were trying to fill a void. I had my doubts though. Realistically, who decides to start over again and have more children after already raising two to adulthood? 

My parents begged me to stay at home and complete my first two years of college at our local University. They started by saying they wanted us all to be a happy family and if I left now that I'd never be close to my siblings. As if the 18 year age gap didn't do that on its own. When they saw that tactic wasn't working they began making grand promises for the future and bought me extravagant gifts. 

I still continued touring out-of-state universities and the threats began, subtly at first then out right. We will take your car away. We won't pay for your tuition and boarding. Reluctantly, I resigned, agreeing to go to our local university.

After my brother's passing my high school experience changed. I managed to graduate with an impressive GPA, but after my freshman year I didn't participate much in sports, clubs or other activities that earn students scholarships. Even with the money I got from academic scholarships, I couldn't afford the thousands of dollars worth of tuition and fees on my own. My parents income level prevented me from receiving any state or federal assistance. So I was stuck.

Oh poor me, right? A little rich girl with a Mom and Dad that wanted her close. What possibly could I have to complain about? You're right. I was acting petty, but still things didn't seem right.

Even before Talon passed, things weren't normal. There were always hushed conversations that stopped abruptly when either of us walked in a room. There were locked doors in the house keeping us out of certain rooms even as teenagers. We were never left home alone; not even while mom went to the grocery store. Their words and actions were a little more severe then tough love. We weren't abused by any means, but it wasn't exactly a pleasant experience. 

Watching them with the babies was a complete shock, as if their personalities had a complete makeover. They were loving and nurturing, kind and concerned, affectionate and proud. Talon and I never saw that side of them. They were stern and cold, blaming and disconnected, harsh and unloving. Again, my therapist insisted their personalities evolved with losing Talon. That still didn't change the way they treated me. 

Everything was my fault. Regardless of who's fault it actually was, I took the blame. Nothing I did was good enough. You cooked dinner and didn't clean up the kitchen, what's wrong with you? Why haven't you cleaned up your siblings mess? Then, in the next breath when I'm trying to be helpful I was doing something else wrong. Why are you in your brothers' room? You know you're not supposed to be in your father's study.