Do you remember back when we were kids? Some days, I remember it like it was yesterday and some days I try really hard to forget. Life wasn’t so good back then, and yet, we both had it so much better than most, at least, most of the people we knew.

I know you never understood why I was so unhappy. You were the cheerful one, always with a smile and those blue eyes. Mom even said recently that you were one the boys always made comments about. See, they made comments about me too, but I guess she never saw that. You were tiny and cute and I was a big girl, tall for my age with big breasts and a full figure. I was never fat, but it sure seemed Mom thought I was. Oh, yeah, the men looked at me too. I guess Mom forgot that. Seems she forgets a lot of things, perhaps conveniently. Read the rest of this entry »

Tags: family, letter, Letter to Sister, sibling rivalry, siblings, sisterhood, sisters

What the Hell, Wendy!

You always said we could tell each other anything. Then, when I do tell you how I feel, you stop talking to me. Well, I’ve barely scratched the surface of what I wanted to say to you.

First, being involved in all this drama makes me sick. Our husbands are brothers, connected by blood. Just like their mother, and their sisters, and everyone else in the family that you two never talk to anymore.

Am I just another one of them, another person in the family you don’t want to deal with?

I don’t want to care, but I find myself not being able to avoid caring. You have always prided yourself on being an honest person who in return can hear honesty from her friends. What happened to that person? Would you rather I lied to you?

Well, honey, from a distance, it appears you are the one tearing everyone apart. Jack never ignored his mother before you. He never acted like his brother wasn’t also his friend, and he never disappointed his family and friends like he has since he’s been with you.

Don’t get me wrong. Everyone understands you all are a family now. We know how much he loves you. It is completely obvious how much he loves all the kids. No one who really cares about him could deny him that.

What I don’t understand is why he doesn’t stand up and tell everyone how he feels. If he is really the one who doesn’t want anything to do with the family, then you need to tell him that he should be the one to stand up and say something. Don’t you think that would be better? People wouldn’t blame you then.

If you ask me, Jack needs to grow some balls and stand up for what he believes in, and spare you the pain and suffering, if that truly is the case.

But, you see, nobody believes it is Jack making the decisions because no one ever gets to talk to him. When they do get to talk to him, you speak for him and over him. Think of how you would feel if you asked me to go bowling but my husband spoke before I could and said, “She doesn’t like bowling.”

Do you see what I mean? It would “appear” he is the one making the decisions for me.

The second thing I want to tell you is that nobody likes people who lie. Just don’t do it; it makes people not trust you. I know you lied when Jack’s sister invited you over. You said Jack didn’t want to go, and then you conveniently had company that night, and to top it off, someone actually heard you say you did not want to go.

You know what? Suck it up!

Having family is a part of life. Both his family and yours are tied into our lives. No, it won’t always be a wonderful experience, but when someone dies, you’ll be spared the guilt of being the one who blamed for the distance. He says that would not happen, but you should know better.

People tell me what you two do is none of my business. Well, it is my business, because when you tell your lies, or even just ignore others, I am the one who has to make excuses for you. My husband and I are dragged into the middle of this because you and Jack won’t talk to anyone.

Is it that freaking hard to pick up the phone?

Well, I guess we don’t have to worry about that now since you aren’t talking to me either.

Another thing I have to tell you is that I am not stupid. I know that you don’t like my husband. You have lied to me for a long time and said you loved him like a brother and all that junk. Well, I hear and I see things. The point being, I don’t really care if you like my husband.

That never prevented me from being your friend.

I think you are being very childish. Sending expensive electronics to school with children to return them to me, instead of getting off your high horse and calling me or bringing it to a responsible adult, is childish. I don’t blame my husband one bit for calling you guys and saying he didn’t appreciate it. It could have been stolen or damaged.

I have an email even, so if you didn’t want to talk to me you could have given me a heads up and just sent a message.

Well, I really have a million more things to say. However, my main point has been addressed.

In closing, I would like to say that I love you. You are my sister and for you to ever think that just because I told you something true that I wouldn’t want to be your friend is just stupid. Yeah, you’re stupid for being able to dish it out, but not being able to take it.

Furthermore, it breaks my heart someone I considered a mature, loving, caring, supportive best friend could act so immaturely.

Sometimes you have to tell your friends the truth, even if they don’t want to hear it. That is what real friends do. You should realize if someone cares enough to tell you when you are wrong, they probably really are your friend. People who don’t care don’t care enough to say anything.

Love J.

~~~~

Jennifer Wright is a mother of four, military wife, and aspiring writer. She is currently attending North Idaho College and pursuing her degree in English. Jennifer has several articles published on the internet, but hopes to pursue her dream of fiction writing.

Tags: family, family arguments, family disagreements, family problems, friend

I know we haven’t always gotten along well, but I have always loved you and wanted a better relationship with you. When you and Mama divorced, I thought for a short time that maybe we would have that better relationship. You confided in me, shared things with me, and even introduced me to the woman you had been seeing.

Then you married her. We weren’t even invited. You ran off to Vegas and came home and told me about it nearly a month after it happened. Maybe that’s why I did the same. I didn’t tell you about Ryan until I knew my sister had already told you about him.

But then you came home and you and your new wife moved into the home I had grown up in, and you moved her children into that home. When I came to visit, it didn’t even feel like home anymore.

Then you moved an hour away, and the only time we saw each other was on holidays or special occasions. I can’t say I missed you, since I don’t guess I ever really knew you. You were never an active part of my life.

Then you moved back, and that’s when you started talking to my sister. Oh, you and she were so close, sharing everything together. I was jealous, but I tried hard to hide it. I had lived all these years without having a real relationship with you, and I had done so because I had told myself that you just weren’t able to have relationships with your kids.

But there you were, having a relationship with my sister and your stepkids.

I wondered then, “Is it just me?”

I remember when I was in the hospital. I was so sick. Yes, you called me on the phone while I was there, but you never came to see me. I want to believe that the reason you didn’t come to see me was because you were scared, afraid to see me weak or frail.

Your wife came to see me though, but that’s not saying much since she worked at that hospital. She told me, “You know, we’re in the medical field, your father and I, and we know when something is serious or not. He would have come if it had been serious.”

I don’t know how serious it was to you, but to me, they poked a hole in my chest, had me completely immobilized and told me that if this medication didn’t work, I was probably going to die. Seemed pretty serious to me.

Then again, I’m not in the medical field. I mean, when they tell me that if this doesn’t work I could die, that sounds pretty serious to me.

I’m also not able to detach from my emotions like you so obviously try to do. I would have been there for you if you had been sick. I would have sat by your bed and waited on your hand and foot. I know even now, if you were sick, I’d be the first one to find a way to you, to take care of you, to be there for you.

You’re my Daddy. That’s what family does.

Where were you?

After I got out of the hospital, you called me a few times, and we talked. I got my hopes up again. I’m nearly forty years old and you’d think I’d know better by now. But still, I got my hopes up, thinking you would listen, understand, love me.

In reality, all you wanted was inside information to use against my sister, who had had a falling out with you guys for some reason. I don’t even remember why now. I don’t even care why anymore.

And then, one day, you just stopped calling. The conversations we’d had, the hope I had built up – shattered.

I still don’t know what I did wrong.

I called you on father’s day and got your voice mail. I left a message, but you never called me back.

I called you on your birthday and got your voice mail. I left a message, but you never called me back.

When Thanksgiving came around, I forwarded my home phone to a cell phone so that I wouldn’t miss your call, specifically wouldn’t miss YOUR call.

You never called.

Christmas came and went, and you never called. I called you Christmas Eve and left a message, and then waited all day long on Christmas Day.

And you never called.

I had presents for you and your wife. I was so proud of the things I’d picked out. I still have them, too. Still wrapped, on the top shelf of the closet in the hallway.

And I cried.

I felt like that little 15 year old girl again, desperately wanting her parent’s love and approval and getting nothing but ice, cold, silence. I felt like a wounded child.

And like a wounded child, that night, though it had been a wonderful and beautiful night with people who loved me all around me, I curled up in a ball and let him hold me while I cried.

I’m so glad he understands me enough to know that it’s not because he’s not enough.

It’s just… you’re my Daddy.

And I miss you.

I know that it’s hard for you to see me as anything but the daughter who disappointed you, left home, got pregnant and ruined her life.

But I have two beautiful children, a wonderful family, a home of my own now, and that baby I had as a kid graduated from high school with honors three years ago and is making As and Bs in college and has a great full-time job. My son is a loving and wonderful kid who is sharp as a tack and he’s going to really make something of himself when he finally figures out where he belongs.

I’m successful now. People respect me. They listen to my opinions. I do what I love, and I love what do, and I have people around me who love me and appreciate me.

I have books published, did you know that? Yeah. See, I changed my name for the books. I tell everyone it was because the name was too common, and while that’s true, sadly, it’s also because it removed my association from a family that has not been what I dreamed and believed a family could be. Should be.

I guess you could say I reinvented myself. One day I woke up and decided that I didn’t like who I was and what I’d become.

I finally broke away from my expectations of what I thought you wanted me to be, what Mama wanted me to be, what anyone else wanted me to be.

I finally became who *I* wanted me to be.

And I found out something in the process.

I like me.

I really, really like who I am, at the very core of me. For the first time in my life, I’m happy. I’m not talking about happy in the moment, but truly, deeply, soulfully happy.

I love my life now, my little chosen family, the people I wished into my life. It’s not perfect, but it’s getting better every day.

Still, I know you’ll never see me as who I am today. That makes me sad, because, you see, Daddy, I think that if you knew me, you’d really like me too.

I don’t need you anymore, Daddy. But my heart still wants you. I still sigh wistfully when I see a father and daughter of any age out together. I had always hoped that as an adult I could be somewhat of a contemporary with you, someone you respected, maybe even considered a friend as well as a daughter.

You haven’t been there for me when I needed you, when I wanted you. I know I haven’t been the perfect daughter, and I know that in so many ways I’ve let you down and failed to live up to your expectations.

But the one thing I want you to know the most is this. I forgive you. Even if you will never forgive me for failing in your eyes, I forgive you for failing in mine. And when you need me, it won’t matter if you’ve gone years without speaking to me, I’m going to be there. I’ll be the first one by your side when that call comes in that Daddy needs me.

Because, Daddy, that’s what family does.

Because, despite everything else, I still love you, and I still want you to be my Daddy.

Love,
Shelly

Tags: daddy, family, father, letter