Say You're Sorry, OK?

 Anyone who has known me since I was small knows I had the temperament of a bear with a thorn in it's paw. A ball of fire both angry, wild and stubborn. I have done a lot of work on myself over the years, after certain events in my life revealed to me that I needed to change to better myself internally. The internal anger was released over time and I was a much better person for it. The way I approached things were simple; if I was going to get that mad at someone, they probably weren't worth that much energy. Have you ever hated someone? It takes so much energy to hate someone, so much emotion, so many thoughts. For someone that you just can not stand. If I'm feeling that way about anyone, then they aren't worth my time. When they aren't worth my time, they aren't worth that effort and then soon I let it all go. I don't bottle it up - I seriously just let it go until they are nothing to me. Anger can be reserved for things I care about, that matter. Learning how to manage my anger with people gave me the ability to let go of situations and things too. Until now I was no longer angry.

It helped out because I was not saying things out of anger anymore. Things I would regret. Things that would get me in trouble. Things that would hurt people that I cared about. One or two slip ups are bound to happen. The problem with words is that you can't ever take them back. YOU might forget what you said, or how you said something, but the person who received them takes them away with them and is changed - even when they say they aren't. You can't reverse time. You can't take words back. I can't change things I said.

Before I go on, let me lay down a little history. This post is ultimately about my sister. A small vent to figure out how I am feeling. So it's messy and confusing, and maybe a little cold. I'm not coming from the healthiest place right now and I can not seem to focus.

My sister, Dani, and myself have a rocky history filled with anger, resentment and jealousy. Most of it came from her, but I take my blame too. We just clashed, she hated me and I responded often incorrectly to defend myself and how I felt. Often, I felt like she was an intruder. We tried often to repair an awkward relationship but it often ended up bad. We just did not mesh well, and I'm not afraid to say that. Most of my life I just wanted her to like me, to love me. I wanted to do things with her that people get to do with their older sisters. We just didn't have that relationship. She had too many demons of her own. But that didn't mean I didn't love her.

After a few years of not talking to her, we finally began to talk after my third child was born. In fact, she called me the day he was born. I had been confused. We had had a horrible falling out. But at the urging of my older brother and the passing of my phone number to her, she called me to repair a relationship. She had changed, she said. She was no longer lost in the world of alcohol and prescription pills. I wasn't stupid, but I was hopeful that it was real. We remained strained but communicative. I always felt like she had ulterior motive, especially after my mother got sick and she all of a sudden wanted back in good with everyone. She had done a lot of damage a few years prior, and anyone that knows me knows how passionately defensive I am over my parents. It didn't matter that we shared DNA, she had hurt someone who did nothing but love unconditionally, raise us well and would bend over backwards to give us their last penny. I hated her for what she had done, and even though I wanted a good relationship, I had seen too many times when she claimed she changed and every time it would end up the same.

After my mother passed, I became isolated from everyone. I'll admit that. I was hurting deep inside, and I didn't want anyone close to me anymore. But I had seen my sister, and the effort she made to be clean. She was trying at least, and at my mothers memorial, we both watched from a distance in mourning as one of our brothers was progressively deteriorating in front of our eyes. He was so high on pills that he was bent at a permanent 90 degree angle the entire time we were gathered, drooling on himself and slurring. Driving under the influence. I regained some respect for her then, because I thought she saw what a loser he was for what he was doing. She even agreed he belonged in jail when he went. My sister was real now.

But that was a lie. Unfortunately. A pathological liar, Dani was struggling with issues of her own. I understand now, and maybe too late, that most of her lying came from the knowledge that if people knew the truth about her and her life, that they wouldn't accept her. This entire time, all she wanted was to be accepted and people would be proud of the progression she claimed she was making. She wasn't without issues, I'm not saying that.

She was mentally ill, to top it all off. It was impossible to really depict what was real and what wasn't, as she was a hypochondriac on top of real issues. So most of the time, I rolled my eyes at her claims. Never aware how addicted she too was becoming to pills and alcohol. She fell off her trail, made some mistakes and wanted to fix them with her family. Admirable.

But last week her lying took a turn for the worse. She was making claims that are still only allegations with no solid proof. Getting a brother, my dad and my husband involved.

I was in the desert, serving a deployment with the Army. Thousands of miles away. I checked my bank account, eager to make a purchase for some things I needed and assuming I knew what I should have available. My heart sank when I saw my account empty. Infuriated, I messaged my husband with the most painfully calm text I could fathom. It was simple, and I wanted the truth. Where was my money? Had he gone on an impulsive spending spree? Finally, he told me.

He began with a pleading for me not to be mad at him. Exactly what every woman wants to hear. What could he be saying? I didn't expect it. He told me my brother had called my dad and my dad had called him for help. My sister, who was living 6 hours away from us (therefore we were the closest), had made accusations that she was being beaten, forced to live in a backyard shack and was going to kill herself because her husband was egging her on to do it. My brother wanted to make a plan to get her out, my dad just wanted to protect his baby girl. I had been a victim of severe abuse, and my dad was just doing what he thought was right. So he begged my husband to go get her. My husband obeyed, because my family is his family too. He saw what I went through and he too wanted to protect her.

When he picked her up he made several different observations. One, she didn't look abused. No one fought for her to stay, and she claimed she didn't actually live in that shack. Anyway, the story goes on. Kevin had been duped, lied to. So had my brother and my dad. And in a period of two days, our money was gone to save her, and she had told three different stories - all lies. Infuriated that she had tricked us, and abandoned her kids with an "abuser", I called her. I called her and let my anger unleash on her. I had talked to my dad who cried on the phone, he was humiliated that she had lied to him, that my husband had sacrificed our money, and that they were all fooled. My brother had already ripped into her. Kevin was on the edge with her. But I, filled with rage, gave it to her the worst. I had bit my tongue until she told me a lie, and I caught her and she tried to fix it. I told her she was going to leave my house. She was high on her pills and drinking. She was not allowed in my house with my children and my family. She was never to contact my father or my brother ever again for help, because the boy cried wolf too many times now. She was nothing but a liar. I used choice words, and cursed her out of my life. Finally, I said words that weigh on me.

"Dani. I want you to listen and listen good." I told her via speaker phone that my husband held while following her around my house (because she kept hanging up on me and in that heated moment I was childish enough to demand to be heard). "I'm not even mad anymore. You know why? Because you aren't worth my anger or my hate. You are nothing to me. You aren't my sister."

"Sommer stop - you don't get to-" she started. I stopped her.

"No, no. Listen. You are not my sister. I have two sisters - neither of which are you. You are dead to me. You hear me, Dani?  I don't have a place for you in my life right now. If you were on fire, and I had a glass of water, I'd drink that bitch. You will leave my house. You will leave my life. Bye."

The truth is, I wanted her to cry. I wanted to hear her pain and I wanted her to cry. Think of me what you will. I'm not going to lie to make myself look good. I wanted to hurt her because she was hurting my family. I am leaving out a LOT of detail to protect some others. But it had come to this. Ultimately, it ended like this. I hung up and immediately felt like a piece of shit. I expressed it to my co-worker. But I couldn't call back. How could I? I had to stand firm. Be stubborn. Always stubborn. I wanted to apologize. I wanted to give her a chance and let her know I didn't mean those things. Not really. In the midst of all of this, I had been confused. Confusion lead to a higher level of anger. When I hung up, I wasn't as mad anymore. I thought about calling back.

But I didn't. And I would never get that chance.

A few days later, my sisters husband began to text Kevin with messages expressing his displeasure of our family behavior. At first, he brushed it off. But I knew Dani. This was the same girl that pulled stunts specifically intended to hurt people - and loved a good lie. I remember on Christmas eve she tried to have my mother arrested for stealing a bed set that Dani had left in our house. We didn't even know she wanted it. I warned Kevin to call Jared back. Mostly because, Dani could lie and we deserved to be able to tell the truth. Once that was smoothed over, I contacted Jared too. I told him I just wanted the truth - I wanted his side. Dani had isolated Jared from us years ago, and I never really got the chance to know him beyond what she told us about him - that he was a drunk. By then, Dani had left him and her kids again. She had left with a convict who is known for his dealings in Meth. A sick man, older fat and balding, this guy was more than just some meth dealer and crack head, he was a real abuser of children, sexual and physical. He went to jail for it and Dani had sworn him off, Somehow, I wasn't shocked to learn that she hopped in the guy's car for a joyride.

"I don't even know if she's dead or alive. I haven't heard from her in days." Jared expressed. His voice was sober, but it was exhausted and sad. I could hear the anger and betrayal in his voice but it only masked the confusion I heard in tones. He didn't claim to be some saint. I felt sorry for him. I made him promise to stay in contact with me, and explained that while I was a total asshole on the phone to Dani, that in the end, I just couldn't worry about what kind of stunts she was pulling. He agreed with me, and we hung up. I felt better. A little.

I didn't let Dani's whereabouts bother me the rest of the day.

Then I got a text from my brother asking me to call him. Text is such a weird thing. It ignites arguments when you can't find the context in which something is said. You read them how you hear them. But every now and then you get that text that is undeniably something that will change your life. Cynically, I rolled my eyes and muttered that I needed to call my brother. He picked up the phone and explained to me slowly that Dani was in a car accident. The details were jumbled, and I only heard the blood in my ears rushing. Something about Oklahoma. A coma. Burns. Critical.

 Carefully my emotions slammed shut. I stopped hearing the blood in my ears, and focused very carefully on how I was speaking.

"Oh." Is all I remember saying. I know what I said was short, and casual. I felt angry and conflicted. I rambled to my friend what had happened and shook it off. There was a whole day ahead of me, and I wasn't about to cry. I wasn't about to let anyone see my concern. On the inside I was torn. Would she be alright? Of course she would be. I barely had a doubt in my head that she was going to wake up. When she did, I would cuss her out more. I knew she was under some influence of drug or alcohol, and what was worse I knew that skeeze she was with was too. I had more plans to chew her out again. But this time it wouldn't be from hate, it would be more out of love and relieve that she was alright.

Burns. Burns. Burns.

That knowledge bothered me. I pressed on with my day, carefully normal. Waiting for someone to tell me she woke up. My brother text me.

"OMG Sommer call me."  I sucked in a sigh. I don't remember what I felt or what I thought. He picked up the phone and the news broke. Dani was dead.

Dead.

Dead.

Dead?

What? No. No. No. No. No. No. That's all my brain said. My mouth however chose a much more colorful route.

"What?  You shut the fuck up. You. Shut the fuck. Up." I cursed. Out of the corner of my eye I watched two soldiers - who I had forgotten entirely about - leap up and leave my office. I tried to stop them, but my mouth was too busy cussing out my brother, who cried when I cried.

Get it together. Stop it. Stop it. 

I sobbed, out loud and uncontrolled like some idiot. I might as well, I was alone in my office. Still I tried to gather it up. I told him I had to go. I had to get off the phone. I hung up and sobbed harder. I didn't have a single thought in my head at that point. I was lost and trying to stop. Stop myself from crying. Stop the feelings.  Right as I was roping up my sobs, someone came in. I lost it all over again. This time out of embarrassment. Or at least, that's how I thought it was.

The next few hours are a blur. I kept getting different information and details. All with the end result. Dani was dead. I didn't want to tell anyone. I kept a fake smile plastered on my face, forced laughs and internally raged when someone mentioned they were having a bad day. Fortunately, I was so emotionally broken down that my anger was a quiet match covered up by the usual thick sarcastic remarks that I tend to spout off.

Those who knew were careful with me but at the same time, I think, caught on that I had no intention of dropping over and being useless. They joked with me and made me feel better. But information kept coming in. An article I was given is what made me emotionally slam into a brick wall.

Dani hadn't died in a coma. She died on the scene, according to the report. She had burned to death.

I felt sick, I wanted to throw up. Dizzy, I re-read the information. Burned to death.

My angry words were echoing in my head so loudly that I couldn't hear anyone else. I couldn't read any reports or speak. I wanted to tell my NCOIC, I wanted to talk about it. I even thought about going to the chaplain. But, I was unable to. Sometimes I get a little emotionally retarded and I have no idea how to talk about my feelings. Most of the time, it's because I have absolutely no idea how I am feeling. I would much rather hear about someone else's feelings. But now it was a guilt. A heavy burden and the echo of  the knowledge that I was going to Hell.

My sister burned to death - and just a few days prior to that, I had told her if she were on fire...

If she were on fire.

...burned to death....

Oh my god.




I guess, in order to wrap this whole thing up, is that, my anger really took hold of me. I said some things that were seriously messed up. And I thought there would be time to mend and repair - as between Dani and I, our past was always conflicted but we always mended and apologized later. I assumed that I would have time to call back later and apologize. Or if not apologize, move forward as always.

But I was wrong. I know that I didn't cause my sisters death. In a lot of ways I'm angry at her for it. She did the drugs. She got in the car with someone who was also high. I wish time and time again that he died, but he got to live. He got released the same day he was taken in. Some criminal, some sick predator gets his life. And my sister is dead. My niece and nephew have no mother now. I can't ever tell her I didn't mean that shit I said.

For so long I have been able to let my anger go. I let it get the best of me, and while I looked back on it I never turned around. My result is guilt and anger. What if I never kicked her out? What if I let her stay a little while longer? What if. What if. What if.

I can't change what I did do, and what I didn't do. I can only move forward. I am sorry, so eternally. But now I know. In the future...

Just say you're sorry.