Me and My Sister
June 11, 2020
I feel that I need to write this, to be able to move on with my dad’s story… I also need to state that this is written from my point of view, as my sister is no longer in the picture to share her side of the story. Of course, she would say she is right and I am wrong. I will let you decide. I have been putting this off… I also need to warn you that this is over 2000 words.
Growing up, you would think that we were the best of friends. You could always see us together. Camping, graduations, family get togethers, all the normal growing up things, you would see us together. Looking back now, I know it was all an act. Or most of it anyway.
It was just the two of us, me being the oldest, my sister being the youngest – no one in between. I loved having a little sister! There were really no other kids on the street, except the preacher’s son. His parents didn’t like us playing together – he’s a boy, I’m a girl. We did play, against his parents wishes, sometimes, but as soon as his parents realized we were playing together, they called him home. So, my sister and I were forced to be each other’s best friends while growing up. We had school friends, but during the summer and school breaks each other is all we had.
That is, until my sister was old enough to spend the night at a friends’ house, then just about every weekend she was gone. She did like to spend the week at my grandparents’ house every summer. Where I was a tomboy, doing tomboy things, my sister was a girly girl. I was always being blamed for things that happened to her, as an older sister, it probably was my fault. Whatever it was I was being blamed for.
She will tell you that family meant everything to her! But, as soon as she graduated from college, she was out and never looked back. I on the other hand, kept coming back. I know now that “home” is where I was always supposed to be. Where ever mom and dad were, I was nearby! I’d leave for a year, then be back for a while. Leave, and then come back. It would go on like this until my son started kindergarten, when I decided to go back to school – first Frederick Community, then after my mom passed away and I couldn’t find another job, I went to Shepherd University. The Ground Round Bar and Restaurant closed in 2004, where I was a waitress. Instead of looking for a new job, my parents wanted me to stay home and help take care of mom – taking her on outings, local doctor’s visits, clean the house. That sort of thing.
My sister wasn’t around that much during that time, when my mom was sick, or when I was going through chemo treatments the summer of 1995. When my mom was sick in 1993, she spent time in Colorado with family. And in the summer of 1995 when I was going through chemo, she again went to Colorado. The reasoning was that she needed to get away from it all, or something like that.
When she was older and did come around, she usually fell asleep on the couch, or went out visiting with friends. It was like that, even until my dad got sick in 2016. I eventually (much later) had to tell her not to come around, unless she was willing to help out. I felt like she expected to be treated like a guest. When I had endometriosis removed in 2015, she came to the house to “help out”. I had to beg her to stay for the rest of the week. She didn’t do laundry, dishes, mow – nothing, unless I asked her to. Having been cut from belly button to pelvic, I couldn’t lift, couldn’t drive, couldn’t mow… and my dad was legally blind by that time. I know having someone – even your sister – come into the house and help out isn’t easy on anyone. I needed her to be there for me, for us, but she wasn’t really a willing participant. Before she left, I had to do a major grocery shop and buy as much in bulk as I could. Then, I had to arrange for someone to come over once a week or so to take me to the store for a light shopping trip, or to take me to the doctor’s for a check up. I was operated on in June, not allowed to start doing things until the end of September. Looking back now, I know I shouldn’t have expected much help from her when dad got sick. I did hope though.
Fast forward to 2016: In April, the arthritis doctor called my dad and told him he had to go to the emergency room, as his liver counts were extremely high. Of course, I called my sister first thing – after they decided to admit him. She thanked me for letting her know, then hung up the phone. I started sending out emails to family and friends, letting them know what was going on, my sister included. It was much easier sending out emails to multiple people than having to call everyone, individually. Everyone appreciated the emails. Except my sister. She got upset with me for sending them out, stating that it made her look bad. I told her that maybe she should help out, if she felt that way. I stopped sending her emails.
It was also at this time that she met her future, soon to be second husband. Nothing wrong with that, she was divorced from her first husband. At first, I gave him the benefit of the doubt, like I usually do when I first meet people. While they were visiting for my son’s birthday, I learned that he was not someone I wanted around. He told me that I should be out living my own life and not taking care of my dad, my family. He rambled on for half an hour or so before I eventually told him that I was happy, that our parents took care of us when we were helpless, we should do the same for them when the time came. He’s one of these people that hate America and everything she stands for. I didn’t know that until my aunt told me on the phone one day. They were visiting with my sister when he started rambling about how much he hated America. My sister would just roll her eyes at me when I would say anything about the “hate for America” and that they should leave if they really felt that way.
I eventually had to tell her that her boyfriend (future husband) was not welcome in the house. Whenever they came up, I would have a huge mess to clean up and they would bring dinner’s that dad couldn’t eat. Once again, it felt like they expected to be treated as guests and not family and I felt very uncomfortable being around them. I said something to dad at some point, he stated that he felt the same way. So, the only time my dad got to see my sister from Christmas to before he died was when he was in the hospital near D.C.
After Christmas, we found out via a family member that she was engaged to be married. When asked if she was going to say anything to dad, she replied that it was none of his business. Dad was livid! He pretty much wrote her out of the will. She wasn’t too happy that he knew, asking me why I told him in the first place. My response was that he heard me talking about it on the phone, and of course I couldn’t lie to him. I never could!
He wanted me to write a letter to her, telling her how he felt, but was advised against it. I even told him that I couldn’t have anything to do with it. The reasoning was that she would think that I had forced dad into doing what he did, or going behind his back and signing things against his will. He wrote a letter to her, in his own words, signed it, and sealed it with a stamp, to be mailed after he had passed away. He wanted her to know that everything that was done was his own doing, how he felt about the whole situation, and that I had nothing to do with it. She thought I had manipulated him in some way anyway!
Dad passed away on March 17, 2017. She was in Nicaragua on a mission trip, even though I suggested that it wasn’t such a good idea. I had a feeling that dad would probably pass away sometime in March, mom’s birthday was March 15. She went anyway. And like I had felt, dad went into a coma on mom’s birthday. She barely made it home in time for his viewing and memorial service. As my birthday is March 26, I wanted this all over by then. I wasn’t going to postpone it for her, she had made her decision. It wasn’t my fault.
Boy did she cry at dad’s funeral.
After she found out that dad had pretty much written her out, things got really bad between us. You could consider it harassment, what she did to me. I’m sure dad knew how bad things could be, but he also knew I was strong enough to be able to handle it.
One day, in August of the same year (2017), she showed up at my door. I thought my boyfriend had forgotten something as he had just left not ten minutes earlier and had come back. When I saw her standing at the back door, I became very concerned. Neither my cell phone nor house phone were nearby, nor was the pistol. Just in case…who knew what she was going to do, things were that bad between us. Not that I’d actually shoot my sister, unless I felt threatened enough. She asked if she could come in, I said no. She started rambling about how I needed to repent for my sins, as God had spoken to her in her dreams, telling her that he was returning soon and that she had heard the trumpet call. I pretty much laughed at her, telling her that as a Christian my sins were already forgiven and that if the trumpet had sounded, why hadn’t anyone else heard it. Then she started rambling about a mysterious, rogue planet – Nibiru – heading towards the earth and was going to destroy it and that the military had created a fake moon and sun and were hiding the planet behind it. My jaw hit the ground…and I told her she had to leave, I wasn’t going to listen to anymore of her nonsense. She asked for a glass of water. Of course, I gave her a cup of ice water, thinking she was taking it with her. She proceeded to wash her hands, asking for forgiveness. Mumbling something about doing everything she could. She had washed her hands of me…
She walked away. I haven’t seen or heard from her since. Considering that she washed her hands of me, I doubt I’ll ever hear anything from her again.
The worst part is, my son was sitting there and heard every word she had to say. He was 18 at the time. It took him a long time to get over it, not wanting to leave the house empty for any extended length of time. I even had trouble leaving for a while, knowing that she could show up and do…something? Anything? I had the locks changed, changed my house and cell phone numbers leaving the only way for her to communicate with me via email, snail mail or actually showing up. I think she knows that if either one of them were to walk onto this property, the cops would be called.
Well, that’s my story about me and my sister. The last I heard, she had gotten into witchcraft and her husband had been arrested for assault (on her). A roommate had called the cops. That was well over a year ago.
I left a lot of details out, I might share more later. For now, I just wanted to share this story, get it off my chest so to speak. You more than likely won’t hear too much about her, accept in memories. Sorry it’s so one sided, but there is nothing I can do about it! (I doubt she’d have anything good to say about me, or even admits that she has any family. But that is just my thought) Even if she came to me and tried to make up for it all, I doubt I could ever let her back into my life. I have forgiven her, but that doesn’t mean that she can be a part of our lives ever again. There is too much hurt, too much mistrust. For both my son and myself. Even my boyfriend doesn’t trust her or her husband.
cutting people off doesn’t have limits
family can get cut off too
if they’re causing you stress
eliminate any negativity from your circle