![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I've been in an increasingly bad mood/not sleeping well for the past several days. It took me a while, but I've finally figured it out.
My sister's 59th birthday would have been Sunday. My mother's 88th birthday would have been on the 8th of October. They lived to 58 and 66, respectively.
I've been thinking a lot about Cindy lately. I realized, that like my mother, we never had a chance to really talk as adults. My mother, because she died before I grew up enough to actually talk to her like an adult.
My sister...well, until the last several years, she was never not impaired in some way. Drugs, alcohol, or both. Looking back, I have very few memories of her where she was straight/sober. I can honestly say I never really knew her. She moved out with my father (along with David) when our parents divorced when I was very young, and I didn't really reconnect with her until she moved back to Midland when I was in high school, two crappy marriages under her belt. Don't get me wrong, she was a nice person, but looking back I never got a chance to know Cindy-my-sister as opposed to Cindy-high-on-something.
I had the chance, later. But I was just so tired of dealing with her. For years she never contacted me unless she needed something--usually money, or to ask me to ask our brother for money. Or she would be all kinds of messed up when I'd call, but I ignored it, the way you do when you're so used to something you don't even notice it any more. I could never get past that deep-down exhaustion you get from dealing with an addict. I was always convinced that she would revert, and so I never took the chance to know her better after she sobered up. She made overtures a few times, but I never connected back in the way she wanted. I didn't (and still don't) have it in me to forgive.
Now I wish I had blown off all my commitments and driven out to Midland the weekend before I ultimately did. I might have had a chance to talk to her one last time.
Damn it.
My sister's 59th birthday would have been Sunday. My mother's 88th birthday would have been on the 8th of October. They lived to 58 and 66, respectively.
I've been thinking a lot about Cindy lately. I realized, that like my mother, we never had a chance to really talk as adults. My mother, because she died before I grew up enough to actually talk to her like an adult.
My sister...well, until the last several years, she was never not impaired in some way. Drugs, alcohol, or both. Looking back, I have very few memories of her where she was straight/sober. I can honestly say I never really knew her. She moved out with my father (along with David) when our parents divorced when I was very young, and I didn't really reconnect with her until she moved back to Midland when I was in high school, two crappy marriages under her belt. Don't get me wrong, she was a nice person, but looking back I never got a chance to know Cindy-my-sister as opposed to Cindy-high-on-something.
I had the chance, later. But I was just so tired of dealing with her. For years she never contacted me unless she needed something--usually money, or to ask me to ask our brother for money. Or she would be all kinds of messed up when I'd call, but I ignored it, the way you do when you're so used to something you don't even notice it any more. I could never get past that deep-down exhaustion you get from dealing with an addict. I was always convinced that she would revert, and so I never took the chance to know her better after she sobered up. She made overtures a few times, but I never connected back in the way she wanted. I didn't (and still don't) have it in me to forgive.
Now I wish I had blown off all my commitments and driven out to Midland the weekend before I ultimately did. I might have had a chance to talk to her one last time.
Damn it.
