Well, this blog is going to be about my half-sister, Sherrie, and that quote pertains to my feelings about said sister.
Sherrie is 34, going on 35 in September, and while I'm fairly confident that anyone who reads my blog can do simple math, that means she was fifteen-going-on-sixteen when I was born. She's my dad's oldest child, born in 1973, the year after my dad graduated from high school so he was barely an adult himself. Needless to say, he and Sherrie's mother had many, many problems and didn't last very long - thankfully, on my part - otherwise I wouldn't be here! As my dad said just days before his passing, "I don't have anything against her, but I don't have anything for her, either." Sherrie (and her siblings, but they don't matter here - and I'd like to pretend they don't anywhere!) grew up in some turbulent, harmful situations. Horrible, horrible stories exist from that time, especially involving her mother, and while I don't quite have the prerogative to describe all the details, I doubt I'd want to, so you can use your imagination. At the age of 19 (I think - around then, if not specifically 19) Sherrie and her friend at the time were raped and beat, almost to the point of serious hospitalization/near death, and so she entered the realm of Christendom.
I don't doubt that God, used in the right circumstances and with the right kind of mindset, can help a person through a tough situation, and this is the kind of situation in which a person called on God to survive, to get back on her feet, to make a positive life for herself in spite of all the negative that had been thrown her way. While she got pregnant earlier than she expected or really wanted to (age 20, she had Justin - I was five) and married the "baby daddy," my half-brother-in-law, David, her life has turned out for the better, despite some hard times along the way, and they had another child, a girl this time (*cough*girls are better*cough*), five years after Justin.
Sherrie proved incredibly dependable during my dad's illness. She called and talked to him more than ever, though she'd gotten into the habit of calling him often to chat, which was a nice touch, I think, for him; Jean (Sherrie's mother, Dad's first wife) treated him poorly and never let him see the children, pretty much, etc., stories galore (and you thought your family was crazy! this is just the tip of the iceberg!), so after all this time, they'd reestablished a connection. On graduation day, my dad was in so much pain but determined to stick it out to see me receive my diploma; as soon as the ceremony was over, however, Sherrie was there to hug me, give me my present, and usher she and Regan and Daddy off to the house, where they came to let him get some medicine/do what he needed to do. The three days before he passed, she stayed with Mom until late hours. She really helped, and the night of his passing, she and I stayed up until 6:15-6:30ish just talking and helped him take his medicine and helped him take off his oxygen and helped him get more comfortable. (I have been wanting to say all of this for so long.)
Here's where things start to get sticky.
Before my dad died, he made a will and had it legalized, etc. In this will, he stated that everything go to my mother in the case of his death, except for his patch of land in Pinson (which is really quite a lot), which is split evenly between Sherrie and I (since, of course, I'm not 19 yet, it's not TECHNICALLY mine, but Mom's as my legal guardian, but when I turn 19, it's under my name legally, I think). Blah blah blah, tons of backstory, who cares, nothing really important - except that the lawyer handling my dad's estate (it had to be put in probate, because - get this - one of the jackass brothers Sherrie has - the child molester who's locked away in prison for the time being, thank god - didn't sign the waiver on Dad's will. What the fuck, like he has ANY right to anything of Dad's, hence why Dad didn't leave him anything! it's such a bunch of bull) wanted to know what Mom planned to do with the land - if she wanted to pay all the taxes on it, or split them with Sherrie, or what. She emailed Sherrie and asked if Sherrie wanted to give up the land, and Sherrie replied with a "not yet," saying that it could be worth some money if we wait a few years - something I wholeheartedly agree with and encourage! - and that she would, indeed, split the taxes with Mom, who's paying on my behalf (obviously, because haha, how much do you think I can pay for the land? That's a joke!).
In that same email, Sherrie said, "I went downtown for the hearing of Daddy's will back in December or January..., but they said it had been postponed, and nobody told mentioned when it was rescheduled,..."
Um...what?
A hearing?
In December or January???
Basically, my maternal uncle, David (I know way too many Davids), who's been helping my mom with so much stuff, especially regarding Dad's belongings; he works at Acipco and knows a ton about machinery and recycling some of Dad's scrap metal, etc. - anyway, he thinks Sherrie's lying about a hearing. Firstly, we would have heard of it. Secondly, nothing in Dad's will was to be contested/even talked about until April of 2008, which was six months after his death. So what exactly was a hearing for in December or January, tell me that?
Things are kind of weird. We felt like we could trust Sherrie but we aren't sure anymore, and it kind of sucks. As an only child, I never had close siblings (come on, sixteen years' difference is a pretty big gap, even if I'm an "adult" now) and it finally felt like I had a sister figure I could talk to about all my girl problems, I could call when I was having boy problems (I did have to do that once). But now it's like she doesn't want to have anything to do with me. I don't understand it. I know she's busy (she's gone back to school, is pursuing a degree in Business and/or Psychology, most likely Business from what I understood??) and has a family, and goes to church, and is helping her mother who's sick from who-knows-what, but whenever I send an email it's kind of short and terse, whereas if my mom sends an email (which is the weird part - they aren't even related by blood and my mom's done more than me that would ever offend Sherrie, so what the hell?), she's like "Love y'all!" and acts like she acted to me right after Dad died, but now with me it's kind of like we're strangers.
Who knows? Our family reunion is Sunday, the 18th, and I'm planning on going (and dragging Mom with me if I have to!). Maybe things will change then. In either case, I'll be glad to see her, David, and Justin and Regan.
Something that reminded me of family today was the church's secretary, who was in my paternal aunt's class all through school (Regina/Susie Tidmore was my aunt, and Ms. Frances [don't know her last name off the top of my head] went to Banks with her and Daddy, who was three years above Susie) and we talked about the family for a long, long time. She'd last seen Susie in 2005, which was the year she died, at their school's 30-year reunion. She asked if my dad was "the red-headed brother," which he was, and that made me smile. I love talking about my dad, and even my aunt, because I adored Susie. Ms. Frances said I favor the Tidmores, which is kind of odd, because a lot of people tell me I look like my mom, and many others tell me I don't look like either, and I've even heard I look like a mix of both..? I know I have my dad's frame - tall(ish, not really all that tall, actually), skinny, with a long torso and long legs. I know I have his eyebrows and his eyes, but other than that, beats me?
Anyway, this post turned into a whoooole buncha rambling, and I'm not even sure I achieved proving my point - or if I even know what the point was.
That'll teach me to blog when I'm exhausted.
"Everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt."
-Sylvia Plath, one of my personal favorites
No comments:
Post a Comment