I racked my brain trying to think of what it is my sister can’t forgive herself for. At first I thought, does it have anything to do with me? I wanted there to be something she felt for me. It’s another slap in the face and another dose of cold reality.

It sounds absurd now, to think she feels anything for me other than contempt. Why did I even think she grieved over me to the point of believing she is no longer worthy of life? I guess because I thought I’m the only person who hasn’t used and abused her. I’m her younger sister. I’m still alive, the other members of our immediate family are not. Our mother and father are deceased, my brother is gone. It’s just me and her. 

She feels guilty about my brother’s death. I would say good, but in my mind, she isn’t the one who should feel guilt. Our aunts should feel guilt. Our grandmother should feel guilt as well as a cousin of mine, but my sister? No. My sister was a teenage girl not too interested in him. She was detached and off doing her own thing. I don’t blame her for being anything but a teenager back then.

Dr. D and I talked about how my mother, aunts and grandparents referred my brother as ‘the bastard’ and ‘the burden.’

I’ll be 46 this month. She is 49 yrs old. Somehow her view of me remains without evolution. It makes me jealous that she is willing to get attached to that family but not me. To have associated with my aunts and to actually visit my grandmother weekly turns my stomach. You visit your abusers but you add cement to the hatred felt for your sister. Its backwards.


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