And Then...

My last posting ended in an embrace with my long-lost sister. I haven't been able to bring myself to write about those next few days until now. My reluctance isn't because the few hours spent with her were traumatic or painful or unpleasant in any way, but because that was all they were: a few hours.

I'll try to share what I can:

The embrace ended only because my sister wanted to introduce me to her boyfriend. We walked into the apartment number I had been looking for and found him stretched out on the couch next to the fan. It had been an incredibly warm few days and heat had become trapped in the little apartment.

The living room and the kitchen formed an L, and the bedroom door opened to the living room. I noticed furniture that was all fairly modern. The television and DVD player sat on an entertainment unit next to a small table that held a cordless telephone. Some of the furnishings looked like things I would own, or had at one time. I assumed that the mild clutter belonged to the couple and was pleasantly surprised that some of it was newer. I found out later that my sister and boyfriend were sharing the apartment with his mother and his son. Five people were crammed into the small, but charming, space.

She was excited to show me off to her boyfriend. "Look, it's my sister!" To say he was stunned would be an understatement. He had encouraged to her to find me, and here I was. Once we had met and chatted a bit he left us alone for awhile, then proceeded to tell everyone they knew in the apartment complex that I was there. For a short time I was a celebrity. My name was repeated over and over again in a reverent tone.

She and I settled on the couch and spent some time in silence holding hands. Her hands were rough. Mine would be as well if I didn't put lotion on them several times a day. Her skin was clear and was missing the caked-on foundation that she used to wear as a teen. On closer inspection she looked a great deal like her father. We were two sisters who knew very little about each other. What do you say to a sibling you don't really know?

She asked if I liked movies, which I do, and we compared notes about genres.

I asked if she likes to read, and she does. The best revelation of all: She used to write poetry. My sister is a writer!!!! That was perhaps the best moment of all, knowing that she enjoyed writing, especially as she writes in a genre that I can't/don't.

We spent some time talking about where her life had gone and how she came to be in this little apartment and where she wanted to go. We talked about her kids, and she spoke many times about owning her own problems and choices. She was very clear that of the three of us siblings, she had fallen the farthest down some sort of awful hole. My fears that she would exhibit our mother's tendency to blame others were unfounded. It was very clear to me that she planned on staying outside of and away from the hole she had finally managed to climb out of.

When it was time for me to leave, she walked me to my car, and we kissed and hugged.

Two days later we had coffee. I think maybe the timing of our coffee date is why she has disappeared from my life again. I can only speculate because I don't know why she stopped returning my calls.

I wanted to see her regularly, weekly if possible. I wanted to spend a few hours a week or so slowly getting to know each other. I wanted to give her love and support. I suppose that what I wanted was not what she needed. We managed to connect with one quick phone call the following week, but she was doing laundry and promised to call me back outside of the laundromat. She didn't. I called the apartment a few times, but she was never there.

I didn't go looking for her again. She may or may not still be living in the apartment. Her need to pull away was a defense mechanism that I can understand, and I want to honor her needs.

My sister and I are both abandoned kids and survivors of childhood traumas of varying kinds. I have spent several years of my life in therapy working through my issues so that I can be comfortable enough in my own skin to function in a way that I want to. She freely admitted that therapy would likely do her some good. I understand that when confronted with old feelings and memories, retreating is often the safest thing to do. My sudden presence in her life brought up many old and painful feelings for her. She admitted as much while we sat on the couch holding hands.

I know that even as a healthy adult, there are times when I can't continue to move forward with a relationship. It can be a personal or business relationship, but if I feel put off or overwhelmed emotionally, I will pull way, way back and metaphorically disappear. I am aware of my emotional limitations enough to work through them, such as when I was abandoned by a graduate school mentor. Instead climbing into myself and quitting the program, I complained loudly enough that the school assigned me another mentor, and I was able to move forward and complete the program. Another time I was working for a friend and found that the friend was not a great boss, to the point that I felt emotionally abused; after repeated attempts on my part of rectify communication problems, I quit the job.

My theory is that my sister needed to pull back from a relationship with me for her own emotional health. I sent her another message through Facebook, this time telling her that I love her, and that I am here when she is ready to have a relationship.

My fears were unfounded, but so, it would seem, were my dreams.