I’ve held a lot of resentment in my life. My soul has been tainted by the piss and vinegar I’d harbored about the people and things in my younger life. I was angered at the difficulty in gaining love and acceptance from my own flesh and blood. Other than my parents, my family ties wore thin at a young age.
Of all the people in my life, the relationship I have with my sister, Lisa, is the toughest. We had periods when I felt close to her, but they were quickly overshadowed by the generation gap and the opposing views she and I had about our family and our lives. It often felt as if Lisa spent a lifetime shattering me. She was mean. She has an intellect beyond measure, as she spent her life in the realm of science. She was a chemist, and a damn good one. Her brilliant mind allowed her to solve all kinds of chemical equations and questions, but it also provided her with the ability to cut someone down with the swipe of her tongue. And that someone was usually me.
I haven’t written in a few months because time had gotten the best of me. Days ran into one another and life just moved on quickly. My mind has been working overtime lately and it is, in part, because of Lisa. She will be 55 years old tomorrow and is dying of cancer.
Lisa lives far away from me and I am torn about whether I want to see her before she dies. She is in pretty bad shape and I have no idea on her prognosis. She could live another month or another two years. What I do know is I haven’t seen her in a decade and I am not yet sure if I have truly come to terms with the emotional battle scars she left on me. I am not writing to rant about what a horrible person my sister is. I am writing because I don’t know what else to do. My husband thinks I should stay away and just talk to her on the phone, as I have been every few weeks. I can no longer comprehend most of what she says, as it is clear she is in a deep medicinal haze.
I have spent many months on the fence about visiting Lisa. And I have rarely spoken about the volatility of our relationship. Other than the few lucky folks who got to witness her relentlessness towards me first hand, it’s not something I casually chat about over a beer. I have always tried to do the right thing when it came to family. To be the better person, to be the obedient child and dutiful sister. I reached out a lot as an adolescent often to be ignored or disregarded. Lisa always had a venomous way about her when she interacted with me. Some people said she was jealous of me. I don’t know what about. My only guess is that my birth took our father’s attention away from her, and he spent the last few precious years of his life attending to me. Trying to get to know me and leave some imprint on my life. Which he did. Looking back I’m sure dad knew he wasn’t going to see me grow up. Yet I’m sure he didn’t realize Lisa wasn’t ready to let him go before his time either.
So here I sit and lament. I love my sister because she is my sister. I however, don’t like her very much. I am quite clear that the feeling is mutual. I hope she is not suffering and she finds peace before she passes. I still don’t know if I will travel to see her one last time, but I am finding it in my soul to forgive her. I am finding a lot of things in my soul these days, and that gives me reason to smile.
