Dear M and C,
I hope this letter finds you well. I know that you're struggling through another custody battle (M) and learning to live for a small wage, low hours at minimum wage while living far away from home (C). I wanted to let you know that things are going "OK" here in New England.
Dad is as grumpy as ever. His COPD and emphysemaa make any kind of activity difficult for him. At 59 years of age, it's really hard to adjust to doing nothing...all of the time. Every small twinge of pain becomes life threatening. Waking up with stiff joints means you're dying. A long night without sleep...obviously a brain tumor. No one hears you beep your horn in the driveway...yet another source of aggravation. Two, unobstructed, hernias mean that every abdominal pain means you've suddenly got an obstruction and need immediate medical attention.
I've been woken up numerous times in the last few months to hearing our father "writhing" in pain only to find out it's gas from the beer he's had to drink that day. Or maybe it's just that he actually passed out and laid in one position for far too long and his muscles are protesting. A stomach flu, that had been going around, resulted in an 11 hour emergency room trip that ended with me suffering from exhaustion and dehydration...all while my family slept/went to school/worked/nearly homeless in Lewiston/working in Virginia. But hey, I'm the oldest right? It's my job to take care of these things.......right?
Mom is in the hospital again. It seems the latest string of therapists believe she's been denying her abuses from long ago long enough and it's time to deal with them. Suicidal thoughts abound...people afraid she'll harm herself...and a 72 hour psych hold in Rhode Island....three hours away from me, her nearest....RESPONSIBLE...relative. Nancy has been awesome during all of this. As usual, I trust her judgement implicitly. I just wish I could be down there giving our mother the care and attention she deserves. Being sexually abused your entire childhood takes a horrible, horrible toll on a person. I long to envelope our mother in my arms and let her know that SHE IS SAFE! No one shall harm her while I'm on the watch. Alas, I'm in the middle of my own familial drama.
I quickly found a place for my family, and our father, to move since the landlady needs her house back. Moving day is this weekend. I've been packing and throwing and purging and reliving portions of my life that are happy, sad and difficult for a month now. I remembered the day I got married, when I came across my bouquet. C...you spent the night before with Kip because we knew YOU could remember how to get to the house where the ceremony was. M...you cried because you thought you were losing your sister.
I don't think I ever was your sister. I think I was the person who stepped in when Mom just couldn't anymore. I took the calls in the middle of the night, from the police department because you were stupid! I made sure you got up for the bus in the morning. I cooked, I cleaned, I circumvented. I gave up soooo much to help Dad (and Mom) try to maintain some sort of semblance of a family life...to help you two feel that you were a part of a family. And what did I do that for?
I love you both...but you only talk to me when you want something...neither one of you are really there when I need you....like now...neither one of you take an active role in our parent's care. In some ways, I think I was an actually an only child. As I sit here at my dining room table, on the last Friday night I will spend in a place I've called home for nearly four years...I really wonder...do I have brothers? Are we a cohesive unit? I mean, C isn't talking to me because I didn't remember his birthday (I remembered, I choose not to acknowledge) and only contacts me when he wants money...and M only looks for me when he has laundry to do and is broke 3 days after getting paid. I've given a lot of my life to you...to worrying about you...to caring for you...to making you more important than my husband and children......and yet, I still sit here caring for OUR parents alone.
I feel lonely. Kip is an only child and he feels less lonely than I do...the oldest of three. That ought to say something to me....to me. I will continue to care for OUR parents...because someone has to. Dad's been living with me for 7 years...he's verbally abused my children, suspected physical abuse of my dog...and has told people that I do nothing for him. Mom sits in a psych ward sounding drugged to the hilt and really needs something I cannot give her at the moment....and the two people in my life I should be able to count on for help at THIS moment in time are MIA.....I'm not exactly sure what I did to draw this straw...but I promise, as I struggle through dealing with it all, I will find a way to make this a positive for me.
Love your sister,
Velma
