The Hole In My Life: Soon To Be Filled

by L.A. Johnson

for Engl 3040 Literary Nonfiction, Dec 2003

 

[ L.A. Johnson is an undergraduate English major at ETSU.  She is pursuing a teaching license in education.  She resides in Johnson City, TN with her two Himalayan cats. ]

 

I don’t mind admitting that I talk to myself or even that I answer myself. I have conversations with myself daily because it helps me to figure things out and to put things in perspective.  There is one conversation I have with myself that is painful and it hasn’t helped me much either.  The following conversation with myself occurs quite frequently:

“Will Jennifer ever forgive me and love me again?”

“Yes, I think so, but you have to give her time.”

“It has been more than five years now.”                                                            

“I know Lisa, but forgiveness isn’t determined by time alone.”

“I understand that but what about my actions and accomplishments during that five years; I deserve something for that right?”

“Yes, Lisa, you have turned failure into success and will receive the deserved rewards.”

“But never my sister’s forgiveness!  No matter what I do, what I achieve it will never be enough.”

Not a week passes that I don’t spend precious time and thought about my poor sister’s heart.  I say “my poor sister’s heart” with two meanings: one, the heart I hurt and two, the hard cold heart that can’t forgive.  I hurt my older sister, Jennifer, deeply; not in just one act, but several.   My immature and irresponsible actions are not deserving of explanation and I do not want to readmit or relive the past; thus I will omit the specifics.   I also hurt other very important people to me including: my younger sister, Katie, my mother and father, and my grandparents.  To all mentioned, I have admitted my faults, shown remorse and success, and have received forgiveness from all but my older, wiser, and better sister, Jennifer.

I silently accept all the atmospheres I am engulfed in while present with Jennifer.  At the conclusion of my wrong acts and punishments, Fall of 1998,  I was barely nineteen years old.   I  received the feelings of total repugnance from Jennifer.  As I walk through the door of my parent’s home, a place where my sisters and I grew-up together, Jennifer’s body and facial expression said to me “why are you here?”.  She silently sighed, dropped her posture, rolled her eyes, and left the room.  Although it hurt, I accepted it.  I understood it.  I deserved it.

I thought that with time Jennifer would progress in her healing process, thus I have tried talking with her.  I have failed. Jennifer’s attitude, instead of acknowledging even with disgust that I walked through the door, adjusted into the silent treatment.  This made for an uncomfortable atmosphere full of tension for everyone.   Christmas dinner of 1999 is not one of my happiest memories instead, I hold a memory of the feeling that in Jennifer’s eyes I was just another inanimate figurine on my mother’s table.  She ignored my existence completely.  With  dinner almost ready, my mother leaves the kitchen to shower and get dressed.  My father, my sisters, and myself are to tend to the last minute preparations.  I remember Jennifer becoming director.  As soon as our mother was downstairs, Jennifer said,  Katie, will you season the potatoes again and Daddy, make your tea.”

“What can I do, are the vegetables done?” I asked.

“O, Terry, honey, will you take the bread out of the oven?” Jennifer said to her husband, clearly ignoring my capabilities to take bread out of an oven and my request to help.  I also remember everyone sitting around the large, oval, oak table we have all sat around together thousands of times, and upon it  was a delectable and cautiously prepared feast that represents to me yet another barrier between my sister and myself.  Everyone was hungry and eager to finish dinner so we can exchange gifts.  Bowls of food were passed as plates were served and “mmm, that’s delicious” could already be heard; consequently, I forgot for a split second Jennifer, who had easiest access to the potatoes, didn’t acknowledge or speak to me as I said, directed toward her, “Pass me the potatoes, please.”  Everyone noticed my mother reaching over the bread, the meat gravy, and the asparagus to pick up the dish of potatoes that sat touching Jennifer’s dinner plate.            On September 30, 2000, the day of my niece’s birth,  I felt as if I put my heart right out on my sleeve.  As I walked through the hospital room door, not yet invited, I first saw my mother and smiled, then I saw Jennifer. She was laying on the bed holding her child with so much love and acceptance in her eyes; I felt the urge to run to her, put my arms around her and cry, plead and say I love you so much, please love me.  I knew these emotions were wrote all over my face and body because her face said “you’d better not.”  So, instead, I asked to hold my niece and by some miracle Jennifer granted my request.  I remember leaving her hospital room and walking down the white, sterile, and cold hallway feeling so happy and proud for my sister and yet at the same time replaced.

What hurts my heart the most is the draining emotions placed on my mother.  She lives her whole life for her children; she has sacrifice over and over again for her daughters.  The effort my mother put forth in trying to help her daughter’s relationship was great and seen by all.  My mother would ask the same question to Jennifer and I both, at the same time, hoping for open conversation.  I have learned of the major events in my sister’s life from my mother as I am sure my sister learned of mine from the same source.  My mother completed her own healing process as I strived for nothing more than her happiness and proudness of me.  At one time, I talked to my mother about my sister; however not one conversation occurred without tears.  When the thought crossed my mind that my mother possibly goes through these conversations and tears twice, once with me and again with Jennifer, I decided that I wouldn’t talk to her about the situation or my feeling for Jennifer;  I had caused her enough pain and tears.  I decided to take her advice.  Fall of 2001, the last time I talked to my mother about my feelings for Jennifer, I will never forget what she said while crying, “Lisa, you can’t do any more that what you have!  Jennifer must search and seek inside herself for the real root of the problem.” My mother gasped for air as it seemed twenty tears streamed from each eye and continued, “I feel so sorry for her and you, missing out on each other’s lives.  This is not the relationship I envisioned for my daughters that once were so close.  All I can tell you Lisa, is to live your life for you, not for me and definitely not for Jennifer.  Just strive for success, work hard, stay determined and I will always, always love you, no matter what.”  Already crying, I grabbed my mother, held her tight and said “I will Mommy, I promise.”

Only from gaining the forgiveness I have from my God, myself, and almost all of my family members, I know that it is possible to be granted forgiveness.  I also know that it takes hard work, commitment, and time.  These, I feel,  I have amply given.  The most important forgiveness to receive is that of yourself, especially to go forth with your own life.  During and after that final conversation with my mother, did I finally forgive myself.  I have done as promised to my mother and in doing so my sister’s actions toward me have changed.  I wouldn’t call it respect, and maybe I don’t deserve respect yet; although, I have shown Jennifer that I turned a bad situation into good and that I have worked very hard to get where I am from where I came from.

This has been my relationship with my sister for the last five years.  Her life has continued as well has mine.  During the summer of 2003, my sister, her husband, and their two children lived with my mother and father while selling and buying a house.  Every time I visited my parents Jennifer  was present.  I spend a lot of time with my mom during the summers because I am so busy during the school year; thus, I was there a lot even spending the night many times.  On several occasions, I was allowed to take Jennifer’s  children to the playground or swimming.  I remember the first full conversation Jennifer and I had in more than five years.

“Lisa, come here!” Jennifer yelled from upstairs at my parent’s house.

“Yes!” I replied running up the stairs.

“Katlynn said she is going swimming with you?”

“If that is okay with you.” I replied confidently.

“Yes, but they have to each lunch first, and they get a snack at two o’clock, and they have to be back by three for their nap.”

“Okay, I can do that.”

“Well, I will get them ready.” She said as she turned and walked back into Katlynn’s room.

 I remember driving back to my apartment that night with a smile on my face and a feeling in my heart that I couldn’t explain.  I also remember talking to my self again.

“Jennifer spoke to you Lisa”

“Yes, but it was very vague and probably only occurred out of necessity due to her children’s involvement.”

“So your complaining?”

“No!  I have wanted nothing more for years now.”

“So what is the problem?”

“I want more.  I want love.  I want a relationship, a bond like once existed.  I want to share my life with my sister and for her to want to share her life with me.”

“Lisa,  Jennifer has taken a big step and you need to give her credit for that.  You also need to realize that this is just the first step in her healing process.  You and Jennifer will be close again.

“Okay, I will believe you, especially considering today’s events.  I feel a little less pain in my heart; it has been replaced with hope.”