I found myself feeling teary eyed as I confided in my sister that I had often wished that I could pick up the phone, and call mom. I often pick up the phone to call mom, and then I remember, that she has passed away. I am somewhat falling apart as I tell my sister how I feel, now tears are running down my face.
My sister, the woman who rarely shares anything of importance or "real" about her own life, her feelings, and her family, tells me, as I brush the tears from my eyes, and as I am trying to keep my composure, that mom would not be able to help you with your problems. She stated that mom could never solve the problems between you and dad, what makes you think she could ever help you.
It was like time had stood still as these words came out of my sisters mouth. Again I told my sister about often wanting to hear my mother's voice on the telephone, maybe she did not understand what I said, I thought? Her facial expressions quickly changed, her tone of voice was telling me how annoyed and angry she was truly feeling, as though she was thinking, "How dare you want my mother." As though I have no rights to call her my mother is what she could have been thinking? Bam! I hit the wall! I was jolted back into reality again. Just like that...the tears stopped, I woke up, and quickly remembered who I was talking to!
This woman sitting next to me, I call my sister, who "Pretends" that abuse was not served up on a silver platter in our household, apparently it was only on my menu, is not a happy person!! She wants to permanently sweep any evidence of abuse, both physical and emotional right into the large pile of dirt she has accumulated for the past 60 years. My God, she's pretty much buried the truth of my life, the reality of our parents lives, six feet deep, into its own grave!
Just like that....just like that....ta-da....it's all gone! Our parents have both passed away, and I guess shes lied about the reality of our parents her entire life, that she truthfully believes the lies she told herself and her own family and probably everyone else shes ever talked to over the years. Those lies have become reality, for my sister and her children. As time goes on, her grandchildren and great grandchildren will be fed these same lies I can only assume.
When I said that I wish I could talk to mom, have a conversation with her, my sister feels threatened. She quickly claims our mother as her own, and declares that our mother could not "Help me" with any of "My problems" , as she could not help the "FANTASY" abuse that took place at the hands of both of my parents. She did not say that, but what she did say was that our mother could not have helped me with the issues between dad and I. See the difference, in her mind, I was the problem, and I am still the problem. It was MY problem with my dad, and it's an unsolved problem between mom and I. See how my sister has magically changed the reality of OUR family. Oh, thats right, its not my family...ITS HERS! Her mother was a saint, a person so kind and perfect, that God only knows shes been canonized a Saint. Saint Mary, the woman who took part in the physical and emotional abuse of her adopted child. Thats pretty neat, isn't it? Such a kind thing to do, very saint like isn't it? The child her husband did not want to adopt. The husband (and his mother) that felt adopting someone else's child, would not be "Their Blood" therefore I suppose this meant to all of them that the adopted child could be a monster, a thief, not trustworthy? I really dont know what it meant to all of them , but that is what my own mother told me when I was a child, that my blood was an issue for my dad. The words that came out of her mouth, the meaning was for me to figure out at age 9. Gosh, I dont think it was a compliment, if dad did not want to adopt someone else's child that was not his blood, could only mean something negative? Right? The added bonus of abuse, being terrorized I actually call it, mixed with my bad blood, did not seem to be a winning combination for me? Who would I go to and ask about this bad blood? One could only come to the conclusion that adopted kids are bad, possibly hatched from an egg. I was an ugly, dirty, bad girl...which is what I thought I was as a kid. I dont think of myself as bad, ugly, or dirty now, but the reality is, our family was 100% different than my sister pretends it was.
So, my sister had to rear her ugliness at our "Catch up" get together. That is not a surprise, not to me or my husband. She always dishes out some sort of thinly veiled, backward jab with a smile on her face, just barely showing just a little bit of her teeth. A passive aggressive statement to somehow completely dismiss me as the daughter of her mother, claiming our mother as her own.
I have decided that I no longer need to catch up with my sister...I have already caught up. I realize that adoption really is a four letter word, a life sentence, even when ones adopted parents have gone up to heaven. Leaving the fragmented remains of two women, one daughter who feels she has all the rights to "Her" parents and family, and the other woman, who has been left behind as some discarded piece of trash that is not even worthy of being able to long for her own mothers voice in a simple telephone conversation, stripped of the title of daughter in my sisters little, shallow cruel mind.
