But still, I Wasn't Worrying

But Still, I Wasn’t Worrying

There was a cold front that swept in from the mountain tops, it collected speed, then found her soul. It was not always there, it just appeared one day, more like an ugly smear on a counter that somehow your arm finds too late. It stole her reasoning, it stole her heart, as she stole her mom’s money.

The rose drops from my hand as I leave it on the letters that make up her name.  My unanswered questions linger in the air long before I pivot, walk twenty-eight paces and kneel at our parent’s gravestone.  I clean away last week’s grass, dirt, and grime that always find a way back.  Too many on the “other side” I lament, not enjoying my surviving status.

She was always kind, generous, and loving.  Then came the constant talk about money, but still, I wasn’t worrying.  She had more than enough to allow any validity in to doubt her and consider greed a motivator. But still, she talked, and still, I wasn’t worrying.  She was changing, drinking, being consumed by something darker than suspected. 

I’ve heard the stories before, but they were always in those other families, ours was not like that.  Ours was a family filled with love, kindness, then apparently, deception. But still, I wasn’t worrying.  So, I listened to her concerns over money, taxes, our mom’s spending.  “It’s her money, and she’s ninety, let her spend it the way she wants, shop and take our aunt out to dinner.” I consoled.  My heart could not consider what was about to take place.

She didn’t trust her daughters, her husband, and confided she wanted to make her sister, yours truly, the beneficiary of her will.  Oh, who doesn’t love a good irony?  The excuses she made to remove all the money and on such a painful anniversary date are the ugliest of smears on this relationship with reasons why unknown to those she left behind. She had no way to know she would soon die, leaving her daughters inheriting their grandmother’s money and fulfilling this new legacy of betrayal. 

I found out the date she slipped into the bank and destroyed our peace, leaving a fractured family dynamic in the wake. This anniversary date, sixteen years earlier was a day of tragedy in my family.   It was the soul gripping, “learn how to live again tragedy” that is incomprehensible.  When I discovered what my sister had done to our mom and on October 18, the day my daughter passed, my pain was sealed.  My confusion was profound.  If karma did not already get its grip on her, I would have channeled it somehow, but she was already dead. 

2

I look over my shoulder and see her rose so still and alone.  I want to forgive, I want to understand, I want to believe she loved us.  I suppose I will one day, but at this time there were no provisions considered for our mom, no understanding for me, and now no “tomorrows” for her.  Not all stories have happy endings. 

She told some family members she suspected her only sibling was taking our mom’s money.  Did she really believe this or was this the “set-up” for her coup? She had access to our mom’s accounts, still, I wasn’t worrying. In this cold current of lies, some family was “swept away”  into the dark accusations, listening to words without foundation.

Her new husband did not like spending his money and bragged about others buying him meals, drinks, and anything else obtainable, but she enjoyed life with him and his multiple vacation homes. Was this a factor in her actions? In the past, she would drive our mom and aunt to her sister’s home for the weekend. Games would be played after dinner, then snacks and movies.  Cozy times for the world to see, then the abys opened and took it all away.  

Her daughters have fled with the money, rationalizing has become a staple in their lives. Before their grandmother died, passing thoughts of her well-being were not expressed, shared, or considered.  No actions were offered for her continued care and support, no visits, no responsibility. Their grandmother’s money needed to be returned, nothing more.  

When her daughters were young they would visit alone from out west and spend the summers with their grandparents.  Their grandpa and grandma would always take them swimming, to parks, and visit with family. They were showered with attention and love each summer.  After their grandfather passed, the grandmother moved to an apartment, then years later, when she needed her money, and care, nothing.

I am sorry to my mom and dad and this brutal nakedness on paper and tongue about our problems.  I am sorry this could not be avoided.  I am sorry I chose not to pretend we were the happy family with only love in our lives.  We had dangers under the surface that I did not see coming, did not worry about. Then they surfaced and snaked inside our lives and stole the semblance of our once loving family. I pray, the love was always there, it simply became distorted through a filthy lense of greed.  With the facade down, maybe this can help another relate who has struggled with a similar family issue.  I hear there are many, especially when money is a central actor.  

She was not transparent in her motivations and it will never be understood why she hurt us this way.  Long ago she moved out west and lived thirty-two years away from the family.  After a divorce and retirement, she returned back home.   She divided her time between vacations with her new husband and time with the family.

3

I thought were getting closer as the years went on.  I was younger by thirteen years with no other siblings between us but thought we were bonding since she returned east.  However, there was a lot that was hidden, then It unraveled and strangled.

I guess in time I will rewrite a better ending, one with softer memories, for now, I’m not worrying. For now, I will put this to rest and stop trying to understand her actions and the chaos it collected in its path. Sometimes, it is better to put on an extra sweater, button-up, and let the sharp wind pass around instead of shaping you.