To know Renee was to love her, and also, to be driven completely insane by a plethora of accusations of wrongdoing. Renee had been hurt so often that everyone was suspect. Admittedly, we had our moments of sibling rivalry, but mostly, I had taken my older sister job very seriously, and tried to protect her from all the worldly darkness.
Even with my elevated status as the older sibling, and the time I put in demonstrating my loyalty, I was still subject to some of the most ludicrous insinuations. That was another thing. Rarely did Renee come right out and tell me what I did wrong. First, I had to tolerate pointed silence, and eventually, when she felt benevolent, she'd give me a bone to chew on. That bone was, of course, passive aggressive jabs lobbed at me, seemingly out of nowhere. I usually had no inclincation I had offended my sister, so when I felt that searing subtle sting of shade from her end, it almost always took me by surprise.
Once I got over that, I usually got mad. I hated passive aggressive behavior. For me, it was much simpler to either forgive immediately or at least, find a way to talk about what was bothering me. Since I felt I extended that courtesy of love to her, I felt she could send it back my way.
That rarely happened immediatly. My sister had issues admitting when she'd been wrong, and she didn't say sorry very often. I think it was because from a very young age, she'd been ostracized or mistreated. She didn't do well in school, and she never really grasped the delicacies of socially acceptable behavior. I still have never met anyone so inclined to tell off a stranger or flip another driver the bird. She had little hesitations about calling a man a jackass, telling a woman she acted like a streetwalker. It was just who she was, the little angry bird that she was. I accepted her for who she was, because I understood where the behavior came from.
Our relationship was very strong. We were very close. We'd walked through hell and back together and we didn't have to explain things with each other. When it came to our childhood and our shared issues, we could just say what we felt.
Even being close, our relationship was tenuous. I never really knew what mood Renee would be in, and since she had some strange notions of proper behavior, we had some knock down drag out fights over crap like me leaving a bra hanging in her bathroom, and because she was convinced that my relaxed attitude about parenting indicated future abuse. When a person sees the world through a skewed set of binoculars, everyone else has to atone and adhere, or be seen as a liability.
She was completely oblivious to her own shortfalls. I felt like she was too harsh with her kids on some issues, and way too permissive on others. She spoke to her husband with barely disguised scorn, and blamed her teen pregnancy on her caretaker, who never spoke about sex. I mean, I could see the first pregnancy but not the second, which occured years after the first, and it was kind of obvious by then where babies came from.
Renee couldn't see that ownership reaps personal power, and didn't understand that we could control certain aspects of our lives. Even during my active therapy phase, I had begun to see just how responsible I was for my own unhappiness. When I shared my newfound knowledge of personal responsibility, integrity and growth, she interuppted me to tell me about the lastest insult from a family member. I was irritated, because this family member was a total psychic drain, a very negative person, and someone I refused to interact with because of it. Renee saw another soul content to engage in the blame game. My message of hope was drowned out, mostly because Renee couldn't fathom having to be the sole reason why her life was stagnant.
I could sum up our relationship with a sigh. When we were kids, I would let her sleep with me so she wouldn't be scared. When we were older, I'd take a beating to spare her. When we were separated as teens, I cried like someone had removed a part of my soul. When Renee died, it felt like I died all over again. Sometimes it was a sigh of contentment, sometimes defeat, but lately, I think Renee is relieved I have found my inner voice. It is a sigh of pure love. The love you feel when you see another person with the type of love a parent feels for a child. The love Jesus feels for us. Renee exists in the spirit world now, and I imagine, she signs with happiness, that despite everything, we are all finding our way.
Sometimes it's harder than others to be without my sister. There is only one other person who closely matches that relationship where spoken words aren't always necessary. I treasure that person, because I feel understood. It's not the same innate understanding I had with Renee, but enough to where I don't feel completely alone.
I miss Renee. I don't miss that silent treatment or sudden low blow out of left field. I miss her sarcasm, and her knowing nod when I said an especially telling statement. It was almost like a "preach" coming from an audience..a high five.
There are times I still think I can call Renee, and I know it's not possible. She is doing so beautifully in the hereafter, and it's funny, because we are so closely connected that even if I can't feel her, I do know this..because of our connection.
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