November 29, 2019
Here is a picture of me, my older sister, Irene and Nate is in the right corner with our crazy dog, Heather and her pups. My sister has been sending me heaps of family pictures since she is letting go of her past. She is moving South, and downsizing, so I understand why. Irene admitted that she has held onto old pictures, even through the five moves she has had since her divorce a few years back.
She kept her mementos in boxes. At least, I re-framed many of the ones I inherited after my parents died, but mine are in storage and I can not even look at them. Since I can not part with anything, I am willingly taking on the role of the sole family hoarder.
Words were flowing freely in my mind, while I was washing the dishes one morning. My brother Nate was communicating to me shortly after he died. He said that I needed to let go of thinking that I could have stopped him from ending his life. “It’s not your fault. I lived a full life,” he said. “There was no way you could have stopped me, Amelie.” My older brother told me that he did everything in the world that he wanted to do in this lifetime. He said that he will be my protector “from here on out.”
He was “psyched” about my business and predicted that the blocks I felt I had been experiencing would be lifting soon. It had been a slow processing moving my ideas into the physical. Finding a pattern maker, materials, trusting myself, trusting my guidance, whilst getting my younger son funds and help for his special needs without a house to call my own has been daunting.
“Believe in yourself and the whole world will believe in you too.”
Then, he was gone.
Irene called me the other week and said, “iI had a dream last night.”
“Let me guess…It was about Nate,” I said.
“Yep,” she said.
“He wasn’t scary, like in that one dream you told me about when his eyes were sewn shut?” I asked
“No,” my sister said seriously. “He was younger this time. His hair was full. He was blond. I was helping him fold suits,” she said laughing.
I thought that was weird. “Suits? Like 3-piece suits?”
“”Yes. They were bright yellow.”
“Hmm, I said. I was stumped. “What does that mean? Well, yellow is a cheery color. Were you both happy in the dream?”
My sister said, “It seemed that way. We didn’t talk. We just seemed content folding the suits.”
Irene gave the dream one more final interpretation, “Well, the estate was split between four people. I wasn’t in the Will. So, I guess Nate was saying his possessions have been divided equally.”
Well, if he says so…I had to fight for equality though.
Dealing with the aftermath of my brother’s death has not brought out the best in the survivors, including me. I know that dealing with family issues after a loved one has passed on is karmic and a family pattern that needs to be healed. Just because I look at this situation this way, does not mean that other people in my family do.
I tend to shut down, when I feel a loss of control in understanding the motivation behind other peoples decisions. This is part of my PTSD. Irene recently told me that she believes I have had this since my childhood. I think she is correct, but I have added to this from many other trying experiences through the years.
Irene was the I went to to ask her opinion or her take on a certain situation that involved my brother’s will. She was a guiding force behind the scenes who helped me compose letters to the All Mighty Executor, and helped me look at situations with my siblings with a clear eye.
It has not been easy to call siblings out on bad behavior, or for not being transparent enough, perhaps not telling the whole truth, etc. My God, I hate confronting people on their bullshit. My OCD has reared it’s ugly head back as a consequence. But, in all honestly, it is a comforting behavior and helps me self soothe when I am involved with unpredictable people and situations.
It was Thanksgiving yesterday. My kids and I celebrated over my sister Irene’s house. I made the cranberry sauce, which was surprisingly easy. This is what Nate always brought over to my house for Thanksgiving when I was married. We said a prayer before we ate. “Blessed O’ Lord….”
My sister had a black and gold glass frame set against the window, beside the dining table that I remembered from our childhood. The old world style script read, “The family that prays together, stays together.”
Two of her kids were there too. We all seemed like we were in a better place than where we have been before. It has been a tough go for the last few years for my sister and I. We were both married for a long time and the transition on our own has been challenging. I’m happy she has a new man and her life has settled down.
Maybe one day, mine will too.
I did not wish my two other siblings a Happy Thanksgiving. It did not feel right. When dealing with them, I realize I have been ‘gas lighted’ too many times. I can not pretend it did not happen, just because it is a holiday.
My brother’s death has brought out the ugly undertones of my family tree. Not only have I lost him, I realize that there are a few others I have lost too. Why does money and possession turn people into greedy bastards? Don’t they know that Nate and our ancestors are looking down upon us, rooting us on to break the damn family patterns?
I can not have people in my life who exhaust me, make me second guess myself, and don’t value my opinion, answer pertinent questions I have asked. (To be continued)