What was she thinking when she died?
My sister was incredible. My sister was incredibly insecure. My sister was driven. My sister was terrified to driven over 30mph. My sister wanted to be a size 2. My sister died a size 22.
Sometimes I’ll be agonizing over a certain aspect of life-usually something having to do with her kids-and I’ll suddenly realize that, despite my tendency to paint my sister as the picture of perfection, she wasn’t perfect. In my position, she would have likely made many of the same mistakes I make now. She would have been unsure of herself. She would be filled with doubt. I can’t beat myself up and expect more from me than she would.
And, in the end, she’s not here. We all just have to do the best we can.
We are moving to a larger house, with bedrooms for everyone. The paperwork is done, and in 2 weeks, we begin the arduous process of moving.
I don’t know what my sister’s widower will think. I don’t know for sure that our finances aren’t going to tank because of this move. Given our interaction in regard to my daughter, his daughter, and his relationship with his ex, I’m not sure L and I will have a peaceful coexistence for the next year.
His ex once said, “He’ll support my daughter and I in the manner to which we’ve become accustomed until I tell him to stop.” Rather, I heard she had said that. In the 3 years we’ve lived together, I have oft encouraged L to cut ties with her in every way possible. I know it’s harder than it sounds. But it is so far past time to make it happen.
But that, my friends, is another post entirely.
For now, please know that we have found a lovely home, with room for everyone, and the saga continues. We are working toward helping my niece and nephew learn how to be independent. It will not be a fast process.
I miss her so much.
And, as usual, I can’t help but think to myself…I hope I’m doing this right.