Posts Tagged ‘loss’

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Thinking of my sis

March 12, 2021

Lately, I have been more aware of my sis’s death and life. I wish I knew more of her life, but then I don’t. I know her life was as much as hell as mine was. No one makes it unscathed in a generational ritual abuse family. No one. My parents didn’t and we didn’t.

I have been writing about grief lately, triggered by thoughts of my sis. I thought of her on her birthday even more this year than usual. I thought of her leading up to her birthday. She has just been more and more on my mind

She died/was killed on my birthday. Yeah, no warning there. I was away getting memories back and doing healing work. I never got a chance to confirm with her what I remembered for she was taken away. As for the group…well, let’s just say I am not the only one who does not think the timing of her death was a coincidence. It was a warning to me.

Realistically, I doubt she could have told me much. She was, most likely, as amnesic as I was (and to some degree, still am). Plus, she would have been afraid–afraid I would “tell” on her. I would not have understood that back then as much as I do now.

My memories of her are scarce, even though we lived in the same house for at least 10 years. I remember when she was born and not much else while we shared houses. I look back and simply do not see her present. Yet, I do know she was. Of that I have no doubt.

Part of grief is realizing what we have lost in the what-could-have-been category. We were sisters and even though we were almost eight years apart, we should have been able to be closer. I should have been able to be the big sister she needed. But I couldn’t be. I should have been able to have a relationship with her untainted by the “job” I had to do with her. (No wonder it has been so challenging to grieve.)

I was given an offer for some free products from a healing music site. I have interfaced with the founder for several years via email. He knows my “history”, somewhat. No one knows it all for it is too horrific to share. People don’t understand these kinds of horrors. Anyway, as I went to the site, I knew what I was looking for… music on grieving for her.

It’s time. I have been sensing it was time. Do I like the “timing” of this in my life? No. But then, is there ever a good time to grieve? Of course, I have to answer that with a yes. I guess it is more a matter of it being a convenient time rather than a good time. Grief is good and the time for grieving is good. It’s just not always convenient.

So, I am awaiting the delivery of the music and I will be taking some time to grieve, interwoven with needing to also live life. I will have to do the two side by side. I wish there was a grieving group for this kind of thing, but there isn’t. I mean, I am sure there is a group for grieving a death, but it is not very accessible to me. Perhaps online?

I am going to kick this off. I don’t have the energy to do a thorough proofread, so show me some grace if you see any typos or needed edits. I am grieving. The process began months ago, but it is now “official”, I guess.

I am grieving. I didn’t know about kaddish when she died. Is it too late now? I believe in my heart it is never too late. Creator G-D is eternal and outside of time.

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My Sister

February 16, 2010

My sister had a brave heart. She was beautiful and childlike. She was a fighter who would not give up. She was trapped…caught in an unseen web that was too sticky for her to break free from. They had her where they wanted her.

My sister ran away from one cult family right into the arms of another…but she didn’t know. Neither of us did. At that time, we were both amnesic to our true history.

I wonder…did she ever figure it out before she died? Did she finally remember her childhood abuse…the younger years? Did she remember “everything”…or just the minor “stuff” she used as an excuse to run away?

My sister kept trying…in recovery and out of it. I remember her telling me how she had to fight with the recovery people to get her a counselor. She kept saying she needed one, but they did not want to give it to her…not even in those fancy, high class, expensive recovery places.

Was it because it was being paid for by his parents? After all…counseling might mean that she would remember something…something important…something damning…about them. Maybe she would finally wake up to the truth about her boyfriend and his parents…the family she lived with. Or…maybe she wanted a counselor because she already had an inkling of the truth? I will never know in this life.

This is the time of year that I especially think of my sister…as her birthday approaches in a couple of days. And I wonder about her death…and sometimes, I wonder if she even really died…or if they have her holed up somewhere. It didn’t look like her. And my father would not leave me alone with her. If he had…what would I have done? I don’t know. We weren’t supposed to touch the body…but I think I would have. It did NOT look like her. I had seen her within the last year.

My father said it did, but he had not seen her in years…so far as I know. But then…it is not exactly like I came from a truthful family. Ha! “Family”. What is THAT supposed to be? Not the caricature I grew up with.

It’s funny how everything seemed to be so good…on the outside looking in. All the memories I concocted about growing up seemed so OK…yet I was so not OK.  Stories my mother told me were woven through my mind with photos from the family albums. Childhood. Sure…that was my childhood…only…it wasn’t.

I remember the day I suddenly realized that it was all a lie…a fantasy. It has been so long now that I cannot remember if it was before or after I realized that I could not remember growing up with my sister. It is as if she did not exist…yet I know for fact she was there…in the same house with me.

So many things are buried in the mists of amnesia with a tiny flash of a snippet here and there that blazes through so fast that I can barely figure out what just went by. Yet…those flashes ARE there. And I do have the photographs. My sister was there. Some of the photos I took…yet, I can barely see anything beyond the photos themselves. Whatever I see is more like a surreal picture in my mind.

She died on my birthday. At least…I am told she died. I saw what was supposed to be her body…but it sometimes haunts me to this day. I know she was becoming “inconvenient”. I would not put it past them to agree behind closed doors while pretending to hate each other to me. Two families…warring for her body. It was sick. It was insane. It was my sister.

I will never get the chance to get to know her. Her living…except for the few times in the later years when I finally did meet up with her…is buried deep within. What I do remember makes me wonder if I really want to remember the rest. I don’t know. Maybe I should just create a life with her just like I created a life of my own? No…I want to honor her by remembering the truth…if I can.

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