And then there were two

And then there were two

You can’t be an orphan when you are an adult. But I think you can feel like one. Or continue feeling like one. Now there are just two. Or maybe four or even six? C and I are the only ones left of this initial family. But we’re married to kind men and have the most lovely, wonderful daughters. But Jackie’s children are only two, now.

I don’t know what this means really. She always used to say that one day we would be all that was left? All we had? But that both is and isn’t the case. She has her wonderful girl as I have mine. We both are married. We both have good, dear friends. But I guess this meant blood and that is complicated.

The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together.

I think I’ve been taught to not like my sister. I find much to admire in her. Her perseverance. Her desire to do better for her daughter. Her filial piety. Her ferocity in creating a life for herself. Whether we make it through our mother’s death and the Will, I am hoping for her to know this. Because she has made a life and given her daughter far better than she was given.

Mine honour is my life; both grow in one: Take honour from me, and my life is done

There is much that I could say. There are many words I could use to defend myself, but I have to ask why I would do so? To make myself feel better? That would be soothing, but I would doubt the veracity of that feeling. I’ve been judged without being questioned. I’ve been judged without being considered, and those that are comfortable with that, remain comfortable with that. I have defended myself so often and in so many ways, over the years I find it to be unnecessary now. She has died. Her dislike, her disapproval, her issues with me –they are gone with her. I hope, soon, that I may let this go.

My charity is outrage, life my shame; And in that shame still live my sorrow’s rage!

It will take some time to let this go. I have thought about this for a number of years, but really, nothing prepares you for the loss of a parent. Even one who probably didn’t love you. Oh I know what she told you, but I also know what she showed me and told me. And you don’t have to believe or even know that,because that is how we live with difficult people who are ,also in a way, magical. We accept the stories, the glitter, the silver whisp in the air of surprise–we just wish it would glitter on us, just for a moment. But for some of us, it doesn’t. For some of us, it happens that we cry and cry and cry.

Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none

I can’t change minds that have decided. I can’t tell you stories that will make what you know jibe with what I know. I can’t convince you to see otherwise than you do. And I won’t try to. You have your experience and I have mine. I just ask that you, for a moment, consider that there might be something to my story. That there might be more information than what you have.

Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave//My heart into my mouth. I love your majesty
According to my bond; no more nor less.

It was never good enough, I could never be could never be good enough. I did my very best. You don’t know the full story, do you want to hear it?