23 April 2006

Deb

My step-sister, Debbie, died on the 19th. She got up to get some water in the middle of the night, fell, and never got back up again. Right now the lofical assumption on COD is liver failure. Debbie lived fast, and died young (at age 46). All her life she wa sinto hard drugs - heroin, coke, and drank like there was no tomorrow. She was not a good person until late in her life.

As long as I live, I will never forget all the ways she took advantage of me and did me wrong. She would come into our house when I was the only one home, and steal from our parents. She wrote over $5,000 in bad checks, stole electronics and other things of value and pawned them, all to get drug money. There was probably a good side to her, particularly since her husband of 7 years is devastated, and I know he is a good man. Maybe that good side didn't come out until I had exiled her from my life.

I am not sad. Not for her being dead. I am sad for my mom, and for my sister. You'll note I don't use the word "step" for them, because in my heart, they are not steps. In my heart, Missy and I are twins, and that is just fine with her too. We are three weeks apart in birth (long labour, eh?), and all our lives, have liked all the same things. She is a part of me as much as anyone else I am related to is, just as Mom is. My real mother, while I love her, is not a good mother. She never has been and likely never will be. But the woman I call Mom, she is my mother, through and through.

When the time comes that Mom or Dad go, Missy and I will fall apart, but we will fall apart together. I know for a fact that I can't go through it without her, and she feels the same about me, even said, "I don't know what we'll do when Mom and Dad go, except I am moving your ass back down here immediately." She's never called my Dad "Dad" in her whole life.

I don't want to think about them dying. Mom has given us the death talk many times, and often at inappropriate moments, and in some ways, we're prepared. But not really. I don't think anyone is. Daddy said to me the other day, after years of acceptance that I will never have kids, that he wants to find me a surrogate husband so I can have a son and he can be a grandfather. How does he know how badly I want that? How does he know that I ache with wanting a son, with all the pain and frustration and exhaustion and being broke that goes with it?

This is the first death in our family of this magnitude. What is breaking my heart and making me cry is knowing that, this is the beginning. I want to just stop it right here. No more deaths. No more funerals. No more video slideshows of photos, or last letters, or holding my little brother in my arms, his body wracked with sobs.

I can handle it. I am the strong one in the family, and I always have been, because I save my moments of breaking nd weakness for private time, like now. But I don't want to. I want there to be a good long time before the whole family gets together like that again.

I can only hope.

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