'cause my family don't seem so familiar...
I don't talk about my family much on my journal. I'm not sure why. One reason is probably a throwback to the painful shyness of my youth. I'm sure another is due to my mother's feelings on privacy. She's not secretive, necessarily, but if I've heard her say "it's no one's business" once, I've heard it a thousand times. And, I'm sure there are reasons for my tight-lipped nature that I'm completely unaware of at all.
However, something happened today that (surprisingly) I feel the need to share. A little backstory is needed before I get to it, though. I know I've mentioned my sister a few times before this entry. Anyone who reads my journal might remember her as the conservative Christian who had made family gatherings for the past few years...awkward, to say the least. Our relationship had been a shell of what it used to be and even our mother was becoming increasingly disillusioned by her behavior. One thing that I probably didn't mention in those entries was that the reality of that situation hurt. A lot. She's my only living sibling and, because my other sister died when I was very young and my brother spent most of my childhood in another state, she's the sibling I was closest to. Losing that connection to the person she used to be was tough. We still had our moments, but I was always hesitant to really open up again due to past experience. Who wants to get burned again, right?
Well, on Tuesday, after tests, tests and more tests, my sister was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. That evening, she spent six hours in surgery having the cancer removed, along with a few internal organs (no vital ones, thankfully). In two weeks, she starts chemotherapy. Her prognosis is good, because the surgeon said she was able to remove all the cancer during surgery. My mother has been providing most of the updates, but today, I was able to text A (no phone call because she was busy with recovery-type stuff) and find out how things are going. Amongst all the reports and stiff upper lip treatment, she sent me this:
"I love you and L, 2. Tell her that for me."
Now, I do remember posting about L's first visit to Oklahoma and, in that post, I mentioned that my sister was the same as always. She wasn't rude because she wouldn't be. She wasn't cold or hateful or anything of that sort. She was just her usual self-absorbed self. A spoke to L the same way she speaks to everyone. Since then, I've talked to her on the phone a couple of times and she always asked how both of us were doing, what we'd been up to, etc. Always made a point to refer to us as a couple, you know. But, it all seemed very "as you were" and I confess, I've been waiting for the other shoe to drop. If disapproval of my marriage would come from anyone, it would be from her. Or, so I thought.
Yes, I know. A life-threatening illness can give someone a new perspective. I've just never experienced that before, so when I read her text, I was surprised. Well, more than surprised. It made me realize how much I want my sister back in my life. I miss geeking out to Star Trek and Harry Potter together. The two of us goodnaturedly teasing Mom about anything and everything. Our easy banter that probably sounded like anything but to an outsider. I want L to experience all of those things with us and to know the good person that I'm convinced my sister still can be. And, for the first time in a very long time, I have hope that it will happen.
However, something happened today that (surprisingly) I feel the need to share. A little backstory is needed before I get to it, though. I know I've mentioned my sister a few times before this entry. Anyone who reads my journal might remember her as the conservative Christian who had made family gatherings for the past few years...awkward, to say the least. Our relationship had been a shell of what it used to be and even our mother was becoming increasingly disillusioned by her behavior. One thing that I probably didn't mention in those entries was that the reality of that situation hurt. A lot. She's my only living sibling and, because my other sister died when I was very young and my brother spent most of my childhood in another state, she's the sibling I was closest to. Losing that connection to the person she used to be was tough. We still had our moments, but I was always hesitant to really open up again due to past experience. Who wants to get burned again, right?
Well, on Tuesday, after tests, tests and more tests, my sister was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. That evening, she spent six hours in surgery having the cancer removed, along with a few internal organs (no vital ones, thankfully). In two weeks, she starts chemotherapy. Her prognosis is good, because the surgeon said she was able to remove all the cancer during surgery. My mother has been providing most of the updates, but today, I was able to text A (no phone call because she was busy with recovery-type stuff) and find out how things are going. Amongst all the reports and stiff upper lip treatment, she sent me this:
"I love you and L, 2. Tell her that for me."
Now, I do remember posting about L's first visit to Oklahoma and, in that post, I mentioned that my sister was the same as always. She wasn't rude because she wouldn't be. She wasn't cold or hateful or anything of that sort. She was just her usual self-absorbed self. A spoke to L the same way she speaks to everyone. Since then, I've talked to her on the phone a couple of times and she always asked how both of us were doing, what we'd been up to, etc. Always made a point to refer to us as a couple, you know. But, it all seemed very "as you were" and I confess, I've been waiting for the other shoe to drop. If disapproval of my marriage would come from anyone, it would be from her. Or, so I thought.
Yes, I know. A life-threatening illness can give someone a new perspective. I've just never experienced that before, so when I read her text, I was surprised. Well, more than surprised. It made me realize how much I want my sister back in my life. I miss geeking out to Star Trek and Harry Potter together. The two of us goodnaturedly teasing Mom about anything and everything. Our easy banter that probably sounded like anything but to an outsider. I want L to experience all of those things with us and to know the good person that I'm convinced my sister still can be. And, for the first time in a very long time, I have hope that it will happen.