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caring for the wounded
Sep. 14th, 2024 08:55 amWhen we were kids growing up in New York and then North Carolina, the three of us kids were relatively happy. The 2 girls were closer than I was with either of them but that’s to be expected being both the middle child and the only boy. We grew up & eventually all made our own ways. Da Olda Sista met and married a guy named Steve. A relatively nice guy. He was a pink neck (he displayed redneck tendencies but never fully crossed over). They dropped 2 sprouts onto the world, Stepha-niece and Da MatMan. Like most couples they had the occasional fight. But then Steve reenlisted in the Marines and took a one-year assignment to Okinawa, leaving his fledgling family behind to live with my parents. He came back and took a job with MeDad and I as carpenters but his relationship with Da Olda was never the same. They eventually divorced and eventually found a way to be civil towards each other.
Sista over the years worked a variety of underwhelming jobs. Steve met someone and remarried while Sista remained single. Each day growing`a little more angry and bitter. She eventually found her way to a good job with some sort of chemical company but after five or six years lost it. Against she bounced through a handful of overwhelming jobs which brings us to today. Her son met his dream girl and they scampered off to Virginia where they opened up a doggy hotel. It took off immediately and by the end of its first year had already won best kennel in the local newspaper contest. They are three or four years in and booked weeks ahead. Sista visits them three or four times a year and always returns happy. She comes back kind of like Sista V.2. Showing flashes of how I remembered her pre-bitterness. I often told her that North Carolina holds nothing for her. She had a shitty job. Her apartment is -kind of crappy and she didn’t have any real friends. She has her daughter and her daughter daughter. For the last five years I’ve made it a point to tell her move to Virginia and start over again. It’s never too late to be happy. Every time she said she didn’t want to leave Stepha-niece and Bexley behind.
She had a chunk of her colon removed last week. Her doctor told her it would be 4=6 months recovery time.Then she had to go back for another. I gave her the website to apply for disability. I am praying to god, Rod and Todd that she is able to get it and have one less thing to worry about.
I guess I should also mention why I am saying all of this....during a group text the other day she announced she was finally going to do it. She’s going to move to Virginia to be closer to MatMan and Jen. I was absolutely overjoyed to hear this news. She has been unhappy for so long. She deserves the opportunity to feel what happiness is like. As a good son Matt constantly spoils her. When she visits he takes her out to dinner and to local vineyards. I don’t expect that to be an every day thing but someone being that caring for you will change your attitude. It’s going to be tough for her to move because she has so much shit. She’s not a hoarder but she’s as close as you can come without being called one. Maybe like a three-quarter hoarder. But I know the final outcome will be worth every bit of pain and anger and annoyance. If I could wish any gift upon anyone it would be that she found some sliver of happiness.
I’m pretty certain that is well on its way.
Sista over the years worked a variety of underwhelming jobs. Steve met someone and remarried while Sista remained single. Each day growing`a little more angry and bitter. She eventually found her way to a good job with some sort of chemical company but after five or six years lost it. Against she bounced through a handful of overwhelming jobs which brings us to today. Her son met his dream girl and they scampered off to Virginia where they opened up a doggy hotel. It took off immediately and by the end of its first year had already won best kennel in the local newspaper contest. They are three or four years in and booked weeks ahead. Sista visits them three or four times a year and always returns happy. She comes back kind of like Sista V.2. Showing flashes of how I remembered her pre-bitterness. I often told her that North Carolina holds nothing for her. She had a shitty job. Her apartment is -kind of crappy and she didn’t have any real friends. She has her daughter and her daughter daughter. For the last five years I’ve made it a point to tell her move to Virginia and start over again. It’s never too late to be happy. Every time she said she didn’t want to leave Stepha-niece and Bexley behind.
She had a chunk of her colon removed last week. Her doctor told her it would be 4=6 months recovery time.Then she had to go back for another. I gave her the website to apply for disability. I am praying to god, Rod and Todd that she is able to get it and have one less thing to worry about.
I guess I should also mention why I am saying all of this....during a group text the other day she announced she was finally going to do it. She’s going to move to Virginia to be closer to MatMan and Jen. I was absolutely overjoyed to hear this news. She has been unhappy for so long. She deserves the opportunity to feel what happiness is like. As a good son Matt constantly spoils her. When she visits he takes her out to dinner and to local vineyards. I don’t expect that to be an every day thing but someone being that caring for you will change your attitude. It’s going to be tough for her to move because she has so much shit. She’s not a hoarder but she’s as close as you can come without being called one. Maybe like a three-quarter hoarder. But I know the final outcome will be worth every bit of pain and anger and annoyance. If I could wish any gift upon anyone it would be that she found some sliver of happiness.
I’m pretty certain that is well on its way.