A very special welcome to anyone who is new to The Grieving Room. We meet every Monday evening. Whether your loss is recent or many years ago, whether you have lost a person or a pet, or even if the person your are 'mourning' is still alive ("pre-grief" can be a very lonely and confusing time) you can come to this diary and process your grieving in whatever way works for you. Share whatever you need to share. We can't solve each others problems, but we can be a sounding board and a place of connection.
Pre-grief can be a very lonely and confusing time. Just ask my sister.
Her (and my) story is next.
My sister (I'll call her Sue) was diagnosed with terminal lung cancer last June. I didn't learn of her illness until September, when another sister (I'll call her Jen) finally called me and told me the news.
"My sister is dying," she cried to me. "And I couldn't tell anyone. She swore me to secrecy." There was nothing she could do. She had to carry the burden alone, which wasn't fair to her, to my mother and to the rest of my siblings.
About three years ago, around the time Barack Obama became president, my sister Sue started showing her right-wing colors. Although I knew she was republican, I hadn't realized how far over the edge she went until she brought up every hate radio talking point into every conversation. Not subtle, what annoyed me the most was the way she voiced her opinion- as if I were in agreement- which I clearly was not. And she knew that.
I loved my sister. I was nine years older, but as adults we shared everything. She was my go-to person whenever I had a fight with my husband. She made the best soup. And she had a sarcastic sense of humor that made me laugh until it made me stop and think.
No matter how hard I tried to dissuade her, Sue just kept on giving her opinions on any subject to anyone within earshot. About two years ago, I told her I couldn't take it anymore. I stopped calling her and she stopped calling me. And I missed my sister.
To make matters worse, another sister (I'll call Liz) Yeah- we were a nice Catholic family- 8 in all- had her own conflict with Sue. Jealousy and envy played a big part since Liz was successful, Sue not so much. Word went through the family that Sue was 'using', and since my brothers have been sober for over fifteen years, they stopped inviting her to family gatherings.
All this put such an emotional toll on my mother and Jen (the only ones who stayed in touch with Sue) that I began to resent her and hate her so very much. Conversations with my mother all centered around how much damage Sue was doing to her life. Her own daughter (my niece) couldn't talk to her either. I received almost weekly updates from Jen- how Sue was hitting my mother up for money- or how she was so high the other day she couldn't stand up. I wanted to help- but as I told Jen, "If I could talk to my sister I would. But I'm not having a conversation with Rush or Beck. If she could just be my sister again instead of a right wing talking point- all would be fine."
When Sue entered the hospital in September, Jen had had enough. She told Sue that if she didn't contact her daughter and tell her what is happening she would. "Don't you dare saddle that girl with the guilt of losing her mother while she's apart from you!"
So Jen called everyone and everyone rushed to the hospital. There was my sister- almost a skeleton- thanking me for coming. Thanking everyone for visiting, as if she was holding court.
For the next month I spoke with her on the phone as often as I could. (I live almost an hour and a half away.) We talked about cancer. She still complained about Liz, but there was no more rhetoric.
My mother was so happy that Thanksgiving would have all her children together and she seemed to be looking forward to the holidays. But that was not to be.
Sue went into the hospital for the last time on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. She died a week later.
My mother misses her, She told me that she really misses having to bail her out all the time. "I call Jen, and it's like there is no longer Sue to deal with anymore. And that has left a greater hole than if Sue hadn't needed my help."
I miss my sister. I miss the relationship we could have had, the one I wanted to have. And I'm so sad that we never got the opportunity to see if it could have happened.
A sort of funny post script: While at the hospital, Sue's daughter had announced that she bought an "Obama 2012" bumper sticker. "You contributed to his campaign?!" Sue exclaimed. I will never forget the way she shook her head and mumbled, "I'm surrounded by idiots." And my sister Liz looked to me. "Sue's a republican" she said.
To which Sue replied, "Oh believe me, she knows."
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