A letter to my sisters...
I guess I will never know if you read this, although I hope you do. But this is something I feel compelled to write. For three years I have been struggling with forgiveness...forgiveness of self, of you, of Mom, of our childhood. And just when I feel the forgiveness merry-go-round is stopping, and I can jump off, it starts back up again. Some memory, or phone call, or text pops up, and the calliope starts back up. Back in 2015 when this nightmare began, I really thought I was doing the right thing, the Biblical thing, and I thought I could handle whatever came up. Then it was as if my entire world collapsed and turned completely upside down, and I was alone and overwhelmed. Mom got very sick, Alex's parents had emergency after emergency, and although I reached out for help, I admit I asked for help and put conditions on that help...I felt I was right, and dammit I was going to convince both of you how right I was. Yeah, that worked really well, didn't it. I expected you to know exactly what was going on here, and how I needed your help, but I really did not effectively communicate how desperate the situation had become. So, when mom had to be admitted to skilled nursing care, and I tried to explain it to you, it was a shock to you both. For that, I am sorry, for not preparing you better for the state Mom was in, and how extremely difficult those first four months had been. And, since I felt alone and that you both had abandoned me, I took it all on myself. Not all my decisions were great, and yes you may have made different decisions. Or maybe not. Bottom line, I had to make some really scary decisions. And despite what you believe or what Mom told you, she and I discussed many of those decisions...selling her storage unit things, healthcare, hernia surgery, turning in her car, her budget...my only mistake there was not getting some of those decisions in writing.
By that time, though, Mom was skillfully manipulating all three of us to hear and believe what she wanted us to hear. I knew she was telling you both her sob story, and filling your heads with lies, but there was nothing I could do to change that. So, I waited for the inevitable, and the inevitable arrived. You both came to take her away, to undo all the work I had done: qualify her for Medicaid, pay what bills I could and talk down the rest; put her in a safe place; it was all at risk, and I did what the nursing home recommended. We all know how that went, and it was clear that battle lines had been drawn; there would be no turning back. What transpired over the next 18 months was a nightmare of epic proportions. I was interrogated by the county Sheriff for false criminal charges (while on my way to my father-in-law's funeral), constantly had to intercept poison pen emails and letters to local businesses, and finally, was served with a lawsuit full of lies. Her lies were not what cut me to the core, though...it was that you both believed them. You believed I locked her in the basement, you believed I abused her, you believed I did not take care of her and you actually believed I had her get surgery she did not need; you believed I stole from her, and you believed I made decisions without consulting her. And then you involved our parents, and your children--my nieces and nephews--effectively cutting me off from everyone in our birth family. I was crushed and broken--the two sisters who were my closest allies in the crazy, dysfunctional, psychotic personality that was our mother, became my enemies. And to this day, I still do not know why. Over a dog she kept locked in a crate? Over some broken crap in storage? So she could get moved around the country over the next 15 months and break her hip, have bowel obstructions, get surgery after surgery, only to finally end up dying in a nursing home? Just like the one you moved her from here? For that we are no longer sisters or family? After thousands and thousands of dollars in legal fees, and countless tears and sleepless nights, I still am dumbfounded over what transpired.
We are no closer to the truth or to each other than we were three years ago, that fateful summer when we tried to fix our mother's screwed up life. She played us all, and she kept playing us. And now, even though she is dead and gone, she still manipulates us from the grave. I have come a long way in my faith, in my self-realization, in my healing of old wounds, since that time. I have forgiven her for everything she was and everything she did to me--things you have never known of, hell, some things I had tried for decades to forget! I have come to grips with why I tried to rescue her, why I made it my mission to save her from herself--not once, not twice, but three times in six years. And while I realize I would not be here on this earth without her, I will not lie and say she was a good mother. She was not. But that is another story, another letter. This is about three daughters who were all victims, who did the best they could to rise above their heredity and their upbringing. This is about three sisters who were never really close, because in our family the adults always played one against the other; they still do. We never knew who the enemy really was, or who would be on our "side" so we all kept our distance from each other and dealt with our brokenness in our own fractured ways. The things I have learned about our family are truly liberating, but the sad thing is, we are not unique. Books have been written...books that when you read them you think the author lived in our house!
So what am I trying to say? I am not trying to answer every accusation or question or misgiving you may have, or clear myself of all wrongdoing, or explain my motives. Yes, I still struggle occasionally with trying to obtain validation of choices, of wanting my family to approve of me, but I am getting past that. I accept myself, and I accept you. I am forgiving you. For everything. And I will continue to forgive you until the day I die. And I humbly ask for your forgiveness. Not explanations. Not remunerations. Not justification. But forgiveness, and eventually, ultimately, I pray we will have reconciliation. Because forgiveness without reconciliation, well, it is like taking a shower without water.
Please let's be sisters again, or at least, let's be family.
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