Sister

Sometimes it deeply saddens me that the relationship I have with my sister is pretty nonexistent. And then when I feel this sadness, I sort of find myself swimming in it.

It shouldn’t be like this. But it is and, really, it kind of always has been.

I have memories of us as children- both before and after our parents’ split when I was 9- but I honestly cannot remember one time when my sister and I got along, when she wasn’t upset with me or picking on me or all-out hating me (“You’re the reason why I don’t like kids!” she screamed to me on more than one occasion growing up. And while she has three of her own {and one grandchild}, she’s been known to admit that she doesn’t like other kids from time to time and believe you me, it shows and kids can sense it.). Instead my memories are ones where she’s always annoyed and bothered with me because she was forced to watch me a lot since she’s 7 years older than me.

As an adult I absolutely can understand where she was coming from back then. It really wasn’t fair that a teenager be made to constantly watch after her younger sibling. I was her sister, not her daughter. But, on the other hand, it wasn’t my fault that my parents chose to not be available; it wasn’t my fault that she was born 7 years before me to a teen mom who wasn’t anywhere ready to be a mom. 

I’ve tried to let all of this go. I’ve written briefly about my past with her before, but for the most part I don’t go there because… well, what’s the point? I can’t change the past and I can’t change people.  It is what is and I really thought I moved on.

But then something happens that brings me back, that smacks me in the face to our reality: we’re sisters who have no relationship. We’re probably less engaged than strangers in the supermarket.

And that’s incredibly sad to me.

Saturday, while visiting my mom and grandmother (Oma), I happened to see my sister for the first time since early January when she showed up near the end of Lovie’s birthday party. And when Lovie noticed my sister walking into the living room where Oma sat, she quickly tucked her chin into her chest and walked away from her and toward me. Lovie avoided my sister the entire time. I’ve never seen her do this to anyone but, as my sister even said, “she don’t know me.”

No, she doesn’t know you! I shouted in my head. And you’re her aunt, for fuck’s sake! But my mouth never opened to speak any words- not even a Hello. I just don’t know what to say around her that wouldn't sound completely dumb or rude.

Fortunately, Oma was very happy to see my sister. And gathered by the envelopes sitting next to my sister at one point during the visit- envelopes with names scribbled in Oma’s shaky handwriting in the corner of them that she gives out at Christmas- she hadn’t been there since some time last year.

Pathetic.

Oma was glowing. She lights up and gets so happy when she sees Lovie, but seeing my sister really was a big surprise to her and she was just glowing, she was so happy.

I wish my sister could see it. I wish she could see how incredibly happy her presence makes Oma. I wish she would notice it and I wish she’d want to make that happen more often.

Before we left, my mom went out to smoke a cigarette and Lovie and I followed her with some sidewalk chalk. Anything to avoid my sister. I just have nothing to say to her and not because I hate her, but because I don’t know what to say to her. Besides, Oma was beaming with my sister by her side and I didn’t want to take that away; I wanted Oma to have some time with my sister since I knew we’d be back to visit Oma in a couple of weeks without my sister there.

When we came in and after we got cleaned up, it was time to get started on the hour and a half drive home. Lovie gave hugs and kisses to my mom and Oma, completely ignoring my sister.

“Go give your auntie a high five,” I told Lovie. She didn’t hesitate because she doesn’t know- and she won’t ever know- my sister. “Awww can you give her a hug and a kiss, too?”

Lovie smiled at me and turned back and ran to my sister and gave her a hug and leaned in for a kiss, which my sister very awkwardly gave her.

‘Awkward.’ That’s the absolute most perfect word to describe the relationship my sister and I have: ‘Awkward’ and ‘Nonexistent.’

It had been months since I’d last seen or spoken to my sister, yet we parted ways on Saturday without saying much of anything to each other.

Sad.

I don’t hate my sister. I don’t necessarily like her but I don’t hate her. She’s my sister. She’s my blood. It would be awesome if things would be different. I would’ve loved to have chosen her to be my maid of honor five years ago when I got married. I would love for her to be guardian to Lovie if something were to happen to the hubs or me. In theory, I would love all that but in reality? Fuck no. I would never leave my Lovie in her hands. Not because I think she’d do to her what she did to me, but because … blood is really the only thing tying us together these days. I’m not proud to admit that, but I’m not sure what to do to change it. I’ve tried and I generally continue to try to have a relationship with her but between my social awkwardness and our strained relationship, I’m not sure what else I can do without any give from her.

Yep, awkward and nonexistent.  And sad.