To my two brothers I never speak to,
Each time I creep on you on FB, the same sentence runs through my head. “It would be nice to know someone who looks like Dad.”
I look like Dad a lot too, which is a comfort on occasion when I find myself pondering about him.
I can sense why you resent me ‘Go’– I got lucky with Dad, I reaped the benefits of his growth and sobriety. We had a family that traveled together, stayed together and I was lucky to grow up with that. You didn’t have that with your parents, I did. I also had Dad around 20 years later than you did– I experienced him when he was at his best. Maybe, I don’t know for sure. I can only guess why you hate us so much. Apparently you resented him for whatever happened between you and him 20 years prior. I was also told you wanted him to lie for you to advance in school, claim to have credentials you didn’t have– he was too honest for that. I don’t know what happened exactly between you two, but you took it out on me too. To be honest, I’m not sure you ever counted me as a little sister.
I still wonder about you though. I wonder what it would be like if we had a good relationship. Maybe we would remember Dad and do the things he liked to do when he was still alive. I half expected you to show up at his memorial, but I wasn’t overly surprised that you didn’t.
Now you, are an interesting story. I trusted you at some point in my life. I remember loving you so much and being so excited when you would be in San Francisco when we would come visit.
There was a time there right when Dad passed that I thought we would grow closer, and I wanted us to. However, I’m not sure we can ever regain what we had. I just can’t bring myself to trust you anymore. I really thought you would be more open to me being a lesbian when I came out. You acted like it, said you loved me no matter what. Next thing I know you’ve cut ties with me and your grandmother on your side decided I was a subject no longer worth discussing. Yeah, you caused that that shit storm. I forgave you though. I still forgive you for that, I’m not mad about it anymore.
I guess I just still don’t quite trust you. Especially when you would call for various documents of Dad’s to try and squeeze every penny out of him you could. I also expected you to come to his memorial. You did not.
Shit– last I heard you two even hate each other.
I don’t hate either of you. I guess, in fact, I miss you. I miss feeling like I had siblings on dads side, that I shared you two with our father.
I do wonder what it would be like if we still talked. There is always a part of me that wants to reach out. Then there is another part that is afraid of your ugliness, ‘Go’ and of your falseness, ‘A’.
I don’t know what else to say.
Your little sister