Sometimes I think you hold me responsible for what happened when you were a child. You've never said that, but I feel it. It's like an invisible accusation sitting between us, festering like a disease. I should have known. I should have done something. I should have been there. Deep down I know there was no way I could have known, nothing I could have done, and it was impossible for me to be there, but that feels like a hollow consolation prize. Maybe I'm wrong, and what I feel is guilt that isn't mine to bear. I guess I'll never know.
Some of the things you've said to others have given me pause. I've devoted countless hours to thinking about them. When you said I "always make everything about myself" I was crushed. For years I felt like I'd always put you first, your needs, your wants, your views, but still I sat down and thought about it. I tried to see our relationship through your eyes. I know there are times I've made mistakes, and I've tried to make amends for those mistakes. I apologized, and I meant it. I've tried not to make the same mistakes again. What else can I do?
The straw that broke the metaphorically camel's back was when you said "I don't know why it bothers you so much dad, we weren't that close". That one made me cry, a lot. To me, we weren't just sisters. We were best friends. How could I have misjudged our relationship so drastically?
My husband is a brutally honest man. It isn't that he doesn't have feelings though it can seem like it at times. He has an enormous heart, but isn't one to pull punches. His family is so different than mine it's difficult to comprehend. They love each other, but they aren't affectionate. They don't hug. They rarely talk or text. It isn't uncommon for months to go by without hearing from his parents or brother. From an outsiders perspective it can look like they are distant and uninvolved in each other's lives when in reality nothing is further from the truth. Their love for each other simply manifests in a different way. Not better or worse, just different.
His brother went through a difficult time in his marriage a few years back to the point he contemplated leaving his wife. My husband spent hours on the phone with him talking, listening, and offering advice and guidance. They talked, texted, and emailed more in the months that followed than they had in all the years we'd been together combined. It didn't seem to matter that they rarely spoke about the day-to-day events in their life up until that point. When he needed his older brother everything else took a backseat. When my husband saw his little brother suffering he offered to fly there the next day.
I realized then that closeness doesn't always look the same.
One day I was emotional over the state of my relationship with my sister. I got frustrated with my husband; lashed out, telling him he couldn't possibly understand. His family wasn't like mine. We talked multiple times a day. We spent holidays together. We were close, not just family but friends, or at least we were. I expected him to get upset in return, but instead he sat down with a sad smile on his face that made my heart gallop in my chest. He took my hand, rubbing a thumb gently on my skin like it would somehow ease the truth he was about to deliver.
"No, you're not. You just think you are."
His words stole the air from my lungs. The fight whooshed out of me with a singular, harsh exhale. He was right, and it killed me.
Thinking about it now is difficult. I wanted a relationship with my sister that went beyond DNA. We would raise our children together. We would spend weekends laughing at our husbands who drink the vilest beer. They would form their own friendship, golfing together so much it would drive us insane. Her son would have sleepovers at our house so they could have a break. She would take my kids to the zoo, and help them feed the giraffes because the animal with the long neck is their favorite. When she was forced to work late I'd pick-up her son at daycare, letting him eat snacks she would never approve of until she picked him up. We wouldn't be the type of family that only got together on holidays or birthdays. We would be more.
To The Sister I Don't Talk To
Start from the beginning
