atomic_fungus (atomic_fungus) wrote,

#2937: Oh, God, no.

One of the things that I hate--that I hate--is when I'm right about something bad happening.

Bible study was wonderful; it was a joy to be back, to be with the folks, to be laughing and sharing the joys of being a Christian and the serious parts of our shared faith and spirituality.

As I left, I asked myself, "How long can this last?" But I reminded myself, "Trust in God, son!" home and there was an urgent message from my brother on the answering machine. Called him on his cell.

My sister is dead.

My crazy sister, the one who threw me out into a Maine winter because I didn't buy ice--she's dead. The neighbors looked in on her, middle of the day, lights on, TV on...called the police; the cops found her in the bathroom, at the toilet, vomit everywhere...a half-empty bottle of rum on the kitchen table.

When I left her house in Maine in Feb of 2009, I told her, "The ones I feel sorry for are your kids, becuse their mother is going to drink herself into the grave, exactly the way their father did!"

...fuck do I hate being right, sometimes.

Those weren't my last words to her; my last words to her were on Dec 31st, when I told her that I didn't have to listen to her bitching me out, and hung up on her.

You know what? I'm not surprised. Shocked, yes, but not surprised: I have been expecting this phone call for the past year, if not longer, because the trajectory she was on had no other endpoint. When I learned that she was drinking the hard stuff again, I knew it could not be very long until this day came; I had hoped and prayed it would not, but did not see how it couldn't come.

Whatever pain she had, whatever demons tormented her, she's at peace now. She was religious enough that I think God can forgive her for her sins and let her be with Him. Mom and Dad will put in a good word for her.

It's still the kids I feel the most sorry for. I didn't have to deal with this stuff until I was 44; my nephew is 16, for Christ's sake, and an orphan. And the kids didn't have the comfort of knowing that their parents lived long lives and died only because their bodies wore out, either; their parents drank themselves to death.

God, I'm just glad this happened after our parents died.

Knowing this was going to happen helps me cope with it. Only hoping it wouldn't kept me from being completely prepared for it; but since it's happened, now I must move forward and do what I can.

Yeah, we're in for some fun now, aren't we? *sigh*

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