Life would be so different had my sister not passed away.
But she did.
There would be a teenage girl out there with a Mum to watch her graduate from school.
There would be a lady in her 60’s, who had not been made to Mother her Granddaughter.
Maybe her hate for the world would not be so strong.
Maybe she wouldn’t hate me.
I would still have a sister, she would have got to be a Mum for longer than 2 years.
She would have got to be an Aunty to my kids, a sister in law to my husband.
A sister to me.
But life does not always turn out to plan.
My beautiful sisters body slipped from this world after a brave battle with cancer.
A toddler needed someone to care for her- My Mum took on that role. A hard one anyone would admit- no one wants to outlive their children, and no one expects to have to raise their own grandchild.
Life since my sister passed away became a roller coaster.
I grieved in private.
Mum grieved in public.
Neither way was the right way- but sometimes the fact we did things differently led to confusion with each other.
As the years went by, I met my husband, moved out of home- and out of my sharing role as caregiver to my niece.
We had her come for sleepovers, and tried to assist as best we could.
Little girls grow up into teenagers, with minds of their own.
Tensions soon rose, and an extra generation gap made things hard.
We offered to take my niece on, and into our home.
We thought we were helping, we thought we were giving them both a break, we thought we were going to allow Grandma and Granddaughter to work on being just that.
We thought wrong.
I was accused of kidnapping, of taking a teenager on in hope of making extra money.
I was degraded and put down and shut out.
I was belittled and yelled at.
It cut deep inside me.
I thought I was helping.
It seemed others felt differently.
I live in a fairly small town, and the words and whispers about what was being said about me got back to me regularly.
I would be honest in saying some would hurt so much that they would leave me huddle in the corner for hours in a mess of tears.
I became depressed, and prone to panic attacks.
This was no ones fault- I had just been trying to be strong for too long.
After 8 months my niece ran away from our home- no goodbye, no “lets keep in touch”, no reasons.
It really did.
It especially hurt my two kids who loved and adored their cousin and did not understand why she no longer talked to them.
She moved to her Grandparents 2000 kms away.
She deleted me off Facebook, stopped following me on Instagram and ceased all contact.
This was almost a year ago.
2 weeks ago she came back for a short visit to see some friends and attend a party.
I heard from other people.
There was no phone call, no “lets catch up”, nothing.
It really did.
Meanwhile, my Mum is still painting me as the most negative person she knows.
She tells others that she attempts to contact me, and I shut her out- she doesn’t.
We attempted mediation.
4 hours of facilitated mediation was more of an excuse for the woman who brought me into the world to label every little minute detail of what she hates about me.
Some people are Motherless Mothers due to their Mum passing away.
I am a Motherless Mother because mine wants nothing to do with me.
I cant make her love me.
That makes me sad.
I worry about her health.
About never regaining a healthy relationship with her.
I worry that my kids have 4 Grandparents in close proximity, and not one is an active part of their lives.
There is a young Woman in the other side of the state either about to, or already having Graduated from school.
No doubt she will look stunning in her formal gown.
It will be a special night for her.
I held that girl when she was 2 hours old, changed her nappies, read her books and sung her songs to go to sleep.
She was a huge part of my life, and a little reminder of my sister who is no longer here.
It makes me sad that she does not want to be in my life anymore.
I can’t make her love me.
I worry about my Mum too, health problems, being lonely and of all the things left unsaid.
Time got to the point that I had to ask for respect.
I had to say I was worth more then being put down and ripped apart.
The comments still flow through the pathways to me.
For a long time I let them slide off my back, but at times, like now they hurt me.
The tears have flown a little too freely of late.
I cant help that it hurts,I cant make that stop.
I cant stop wondering how different things would be had my sister never passed away.
Oh how I wish she never left us- but she did, and I cannot change that.
I also wish I had a functional relationship with two very important people in my life.
But I don’t.
I just need to accept that I can’t make someone love me.
But it is real.
I can’t make you love me.
I wish I could.
But I can’t.