So, since my sister died my parents asked me to join them in family therapy. We meet once a month or so. The family therapist was Angela's therapist when she died. My parents each see her independently. If you've been reading for a while you might expect that I had a therapist - so I continue to see her. Most of what I've worked on in therapy for the last three years has been about letting go of my sister - setting boundaries, limits and simply coping with the craziness her mental illness and drug and alcohol abuse brought with it.
When I look back over the past few year I can see her decline. Momentary ups with progressively faster declines were the pattern of her life - something like a downhill ski slope. I remember driving her home from the hospital once and saying that she just needed to start over again - and she said she was so tired of starting over. She was an adult and she didn't want to have to live with her mom and dad and be treated like a child.
Petulant Angela - the Angela that begged me not to tell mom and dad she was drinking because, "it would hurt them so much," and "she just didn't want to stress them out again," whose behavior was designed to tug at my sense of sisterly honor - to remind me of all the times she had kept my secrets. How could I dare to break the solomn sister oath - the oath that's null and void when someone is doing something that could kill them.
But I wanted my sister back. For years she hadn't trusted me. Hadn't shared the details of her addiction and now she was bringing me back into the fold. Foolishly, I thought it was because she loved me. Now I realise, it was because I was one of the only people in her life that hadn't given up.
How much of this can I share in family therapy? Not much. My parents are heartbroken and how can I speak ill of the dead? But I am angry. I was manipulated and used.
In family therapy my parents talk about dreams they had where Angela comes to them and offers her assurance that she is okay. She provides encouragement and solace.
She hasn't come to me. Probably because I am angry.
I feel her sometimes - when I am singing, shopping, buying presents and playing this match three game - Fish Mania.
But she hasn't come to me in a dream. I only felt her presence strongly once - since her actually inurnment. Cause I did feel her then, too.
Delilah, her puppy bounded toward me and lept into my lap. It reminded me so much of Angela I cried out.
