I called your name as I awoke.
You didn’t answer.
Thank God!

My brother’s birthday was the 14th of February. Of course I don’t celebrate birthday’s but it is the first anniversary of sorts after he took his life. I believe anger toward him is less intense and has moved to a great sadness.

I do not recall my sister ever taking care of my brother. I can’t say for certainly but I can’t remember her having him for a day or night. What I do remember is around age 3, when he was removed from the home, I woke in the early hours of the morning listening to her cry. The mother was in the room with her, hitting her. I could always feel her getting hit. My body cringed. Maybe it was just me remembering dowel rods on my skin and knowing what she was going through, but it felt like I was physically taking on myself each and every blow.

I wondered why the mother had these clandestine times with my sister. Honestly, it made me distrustful. Why was she getting beaten and other things as I slept? Why was it always in the middle of the night as if it was something only she and the mother shared? How crazy to think such a thing, to be jealous of this private abuse of which I was left out?

My sister always cried in a way that said she was feeling the pain. I hated that. I wish she’d been able to control that better and not give the mother what she wanted, knowledge that she caused pain. As an adult I realize my thinking wasn’t reasonable and that my sister survived the same things I did only with different coping skills.

My sister, the sexual, deceitful, disgusting witch still takes her place in my dreams. I’m angry with her at times but that anger turns to grief, mourning, longing if not pining for a fairy tale big sister.

I woke yesterday morning calling out to the victim, abuser, child, woman, sneaky, dishonest rag of a child. Between wake and sleep I thought she was in the other room. I didn’t want her to leave. I kept calling her name. When I woke I just lay there looking at a white ceiling, embarrassed. No one was here to know I called her name. No one witnessed it, but there was a feeling of .., embarrassment. I called to the girl who ignores me for complex reasons. I know she will never again answer a call but that’s ok because I don’t need her, at least in waking hours, I don’t need her.


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2 thoughts on “Sister. Brother. Mother.

  1. Yeah. Ya know, while writing it I called her a whole bunch of stuff. I wanted to describe her as a survivor but also the cold hearted person she was then and now. As much rage as I feel at times, I think its a tenth of the amount I see in her eyes when she looks at me. In 25 years I’ve seen her once and I got the same amount of hate and rage that two eyes could give.
    I had to remove myself from contact with her over email and such because I was really getting an emotional bashing. I’m not doing it. I’m not going to do it. It’s a loss for us both.


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