Sister

I had a friend, a friend like most people never get. We met when we were fourteen, and grew up together. She had children and I got to watch them grow as their Aunt. T. knows me better than anyone ever has. She understood me completely and I understood her. We trusted each other implicitly. We were supposed to grow old together, and we did for 26 years or so.

We don’t talk now. She is full of anger and blames me for things I’m not responsible for. I blame her for the things she did. What happened is alcohol. She became an alcoholic and I watched it destroy the person I loved. T was a wonderful mother when the kids were little, but they don’t remember it. I tell them about it and they say that she’s been like she is now as long as they can remember. That breaks my heart a little.

First went her personality. She’s a mean drunk, and she lost the things that made her such a wonderful person. She lost her intelligence and her sense of humor and her compassion. She became bitter and self centered. There were several incidents I won’t go into. I lived near her and had to go over there in the middle of the night multiple times. Then she started putting the kids in danger. She didn’t do it maliciously or anything, it’s just that her drinking took priority over everything else. There was an incident I won’t go into on here, but she had to make a choice. She chose badly. She chose someone else over her child and then decided she was going to stay with him. By this time she had become a terrible friend. She would call me up, cry about the situation, then hang up without ever, not once, asking about my life. This went on for over a year, until I finally asked her why. She came back with sarcasm, so I surely wasn’t going to talk to her then. She accused me of calling social services and called me all sorts of names, but I hadn’t. I knew of several people who had though, and I was thinking of it.

When she made that decision, I had to separate myself from her. I told the kids I’d be there for them, and found out they were putting themselves in danger every day, climbing a tree to get to the roof to climb in through a window to get in the house. Finally I talked to the kid’s father. I hated to do it, because I felt like a traitor, but I knew it was the right thing too. He asked me again to call social service, and told me three others had already called but the more people that called the better. I talked to T’s other friend, who said she had already called social services. She also encouraged me to do so, and finally I did.

Meanwhile, I had broken up with my bf and was dating my soon to be husband. There were other things going on, but to try to keep this somewhat short, she moved in with my ex. Now, you just don’t do that and she knew it. She had places to stay but no one was letting her drink. He let her drink so she chose the booze over her friendship with me.

It’s been about 6 years now. Her daughter moved in with me when she graduated and lived here a year. T would go on fb drunk and ranting that I was stealing her children, etc etc. It was awful. She did apologize, and we spoke over email a bit. Her daughter ultimately decided to go home and live with her grandmother. Her kids don’t want anything to do with her because¬† of everything they went through, but she acts like she’s clueless and that she didn’t do anything wrong

I miss her. I feel like piece of me is missing. She was my family as well as my best and pretty much only friend. I don’t have parents so for me, introducing a new guy to her was the equivalent of meeting the parents, as strange as that may sound. I want to forgive her, but I don’t know if she will even admit to all she’s done. I think she feels like she is the wronged one in this relationship. What I did I did for the kids, but I still understand her being upset with me about it. But the things she did had no reason other than her own desires.¬† I’m thinking of contacting her to see if we can salvage it, and I don’t know if I should. I don’t know if she’s changed. I hope so but I do have my doubts.

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