Anne

[fbhjr]

While visiting folks in KY this last week I was talking about my sister. I was reminded that although I speak of her often, I haven’t talked about why she and I have been out of touch since 1994.

So, here it goes. Most of it involves my father and events before I was born, so he’s going to show up a lot in it too.

My father went to college in Vermont durring the great depression. While he was in school he met and fell in love with a woman who was going to get her MD, Grace.
My father’s junior year of college, his father died, his mother had to sell the house to pay the bills associated with that, his mother moved to another state to live with her family and the woman he loved told him she couldn’t see him and get her MD and the MD was more important.
So, in less than a year he lost his family and the woman he loved.
He graduated college in 1936 with a degree in electrical engineering and went to work for the power company in White River Junction VT. (The same company he would continue to work for over the next 52 years.)
He and his boss’ daughter started dating and soon were engaged to be married.
Two weeks before he was going to marry his boss’ daughter, Grace called him. She had her MD and was now willing to marry him.
After much debate, my father left his fiancé, got a transfer to the Hartford CT office of the power company and ran off with Grace.

She worked and lived in Boston, becoming the head of the state health department. He worked and lived in Hartford as an electrical engineer for the power company. They saw each other weekends. They had no children until my father was drafted in WWII. 4 years later, he got out of the army. 5 years later, my sister was born.
My father’s first wife did not want children as shown by their being married 9 years without any. I’m certain that if the options to end a pregnancy were available in 1947, my sister would never have been born. But, in February of 1948, Anne was born.
My father got transferred to Boston, and they bought a house in the suburbs.

My father was very happy to have a child.
In the early 90’s I transferred some of my father’s home movies of that time to video tape for him.
“Look at his smile!” my wife said watching the film of my father playing with my sister. “I’ve never seen your father anywhere close to that happy before.”
And, it’s true.
In every picture, movie or story from that time it is clear my father was happier than ever before.

When Anne turned 5, her mother told my father to stop spending time with his daugher. She resented Anne getting his attention and told him if he didn’t stop it totally she would divorce him and take her away forever.
It was 1953. She was the head of the Mass health department. He was some engineer from the power company. The odds my father would get custody of my sister were not at all good.
And, although never spoken of in his telling of the tale, I don’t think he wanted to give up Grace.
My father stopped talking to my sister, doing things with her, or doing anything more than just formally acknowledging her being there.
He never told her why.

For the next 7 years my father treated her like someone renting a room in the house.
My sister came to the conclusion that she was not wanted and did her best to accept that.
Grace’s mother came to live with them, and I’m told she was fond of Anne and made sure she had clothes and things like that.
My father threw himself into his job, spending more and more time at the office and less and less at home. When at home, he usually spent his time in his office in the basement. He was made engineering manager for his department. A job he hated, but kept for the next 30 years.

Then Grace got cancer.
It was discovered while still removable surgically. But, she refused to have the operation.
Her mother got cancer about the same time.
Anne knew both were dying, but each told her not to tell the other.
They both died at home about a year later, I’m told in great pain.

My father remarried. My mother offered to adopt my then 14 year old sister, but my sister never answered her, so it didn’t happen.
My brother and I were born. My sister went off to college and when she graduated she stayed there in Rockford Illinois. Her degree was in English literature and as far as I can tell she didn’t even try and find a job.
Her mother had left her all of her money and possessions. My father bought the possessions off of my sister for some large amount of money. I’ve never been told the exact amount, but it was several tens of thousands in 1961 money. So, at least at first, she didn’t really need to work and didn’t.
She did eventually start working as a nanny for her college friends as they got married and had kids. Eventually this moved on to her taking care of kids for people who were not her college roommates.

At no point did she ever talk about anyone in her life. This doesn’t mean I don’t think she had anyone in her life, only that she didn’t talk about it. But, that might be wishful thinking on my part as well. I’d certainly like to think she had someone who cared for her.

She would come home for 2 weeks every Christmas and 2 weeks every summer. She would write, and send things, but always to my brother and me, never to my father or mother.
She and I would be inseparable those times, mostly for my insisting on tagging along with her. I looked forward to those visits all year long. I memorized how to get to all of my sister’s favorite places so I could guide her there when she was home. (She has zero sense of direction. Once while on 2nd street, she had to ask for directions to 1st street where she had lived for 25 years.) The things she was interested in were the things I became interested in. The things she liked, I liked. She was 15 years older than me and the person I looked up to and wanted to emulate far more than either of my parents.

My father wrote to her every week, but his letters were very dry. I got the same letters when I left for college and it was like reading someone’s appointment book.
(When I say I got the same letters, I mean it literally. He’d photocopy Anne’s, white out her name and write mine in over it.)
My father and sister would never talk while she was at home. He was clearly happy to have her there, but never said as much.

After 52 years with the power company, my father retired in 1988. He then began to consult with the power company and another company, so was kept busy.
In 1990 I was working in New Hampshire across the river from White River Junction where he had worked when that age.
In late April, my father had a stroke. I drove the 3 hours down to Norwood hospital to see him after I got out of work that night.
As I walked in, the nurses were putting him back in bed. I asked what had gone on and they told me he had unplugged his IVs and started walking away. He got about 10’ before he collapsed.
“What were you doing?” I asked him.
“Don’t want to die here,” he told me. “I want to die at home.”
“The nurses tell me you aren’t going to die here,” I said. “You’re going to recover and go to a rehab hospital.” (Of course, he did die there, just 10 years later.)
“I’m going to die,” he said. “I need you to do something for me.”
“What?” I asked him.
“You need to go to your sister,” he said. “You have to tell her I’m sorry for her childhood. You have to tell her why I did what I did. You have to tell her I love her.”
“You’re going to be OK,” I said. “You can tell her yourself.”
“Promise me you’ll tell her,” he demanded.
“OK, I promise,” I said.
He fell asleep.
I came back the next morning and he seemed to be doing better.
“See, you are going to live,” I said. “Now you can go and tell Anne yourself.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
“Last night,” I said. “When you told me to go talk to Anne for you.”
“That didn’t happen,” he said. “I dreamed that.”
“If you dreamed it, then why do I remember it?” I asked him.
“It was a dream and I don’t want you to mention it again,” he said.
I didn’t. He went to rehab and got better. By late fall he was almost back to normal.
That Thanksgiving was when my sister said that for the first time in my life, she was not going to come home for Christmas as she was “too busy and saw no point.”
“You promised to go and tell her,” my father said as we played chess.
“I thought you dreamed that,” I said.
“You promised,” he said. “And, I need you to keep your promise.”

I was out of work. The place in NH had laid me off and was going out of business. I had not yet found a new place yet.
The week before Christmas my parents rented me a car and I drove out.
I had not been to Rockford IL since my sister’s college graduation in 1969.

She was not happy to see me.
But, I insisted on telling her what I had been told. After a fair bit of arguing in a McDonalds, as she wouldn’t let me in her apartment, she let me tell it.
“That sounds like my mother all right,” was what she said at the end of it. “I can see her doing something like that without any trouble.
“But, he had lots of other chances to tell me he loved me. Why didn’t he?”
“He was scared,” I said. “He didn’t know how. He didn’t think you would believe him.”
“I still don’t think it is true,” she said. “He only wants me home so he can have the image of all his kids there.”
“You are all he has left of your mother,” I said. “He’d love you for that alone. But, you are his daughter too.
“I’ve seen the old movies from when you were a kid. He couldn’t have looked that happy playing with you unless he really loved you.”
“It’s a lie,” she said. “Those movies are a lie. I wish you’d just burn them and never want to hear about them again.”
“He loves you,” I said. “The stroke made him afraid he’ll die without you hearing it. Call on Christmas day and I’m sure he’ll tell you himself.”
“He won’t say it,” she said.
“I’ll be right there next to him,” I said. “I’ll make sure he says it.”
Christmas day I was at my parent’s house when she called. I had told him about the meeting, what she wanted to hear and what I expected him to say. I spoke with her briefly while my father sat in his chair next to me.
“You only have three words to say,” I told him as I handed him the phone. “Tell her you love her.”
“Hello,” he said into the phone.
“Hi, dad,” I heard her say.
There was a pause.
“I hope you have a good Christmas,” he said and hung up the phone.

For the next 3 years she would not return my letters or calls.
Then, in 1993, my wife and I got married. I wrote to my sister and told her I very much wanted her to be there. After threatening to come out and ask her in person, she did finally call me.
She came to the wedding on the condition she would not have to go to our parent’s house at any time, or talk with them in any way unless she agreed to it.
I agreed. This ended up with us all spending a night on my (then) friend Dave’s floor as none of us wanted to go to that house.
At the wedding we assigned her body guards to keep my parents away. My sister did eventually go an talk with them, but when she wanted to. I have no idea what was said between them.

The day after my wedding, I drove my sister to the airport and that was the last I have seen her.
I called her a month later on my birthday. I called her 6 weeks later for Christmas. Both times she answered the phone and talked with me.
I told her the next call was to be for her birthday in February, and she had to call me.
No call came.
In August I wrote to her and said I was going to come out and see her.
She called me and begged me not to. She was clearly in tears over and told me she just couldn’t handle being reminded of everything from your youth. It was too painful and she was very sorry, but she couldn’t take it and I shouldn’t go out to see her.
I have never heard from her again.

For a while I tried to get her to at least exchange letters with me. But, none were ever returned. Even the ones with preaddressed post cards that said “I am alive” and only had to be put back in the mail.
My cousin Carolyn eventually convinced me that all I was doing with this was hurting my sister. My wanting her in my life did not make it good for her. And, if she needed me, she knew where to find me and knew I was ready to help.

So, I wrote my sister a letter promising not to bother her any more. I left certain conditions that I would: When family members die, when I leave the country for any reason, if I ever move or if I am going to be within 100 miles of where she lives.
I have more or less kept to that. I’ve stretched the “family member dying” a couple of times just to drop her a note. (Like when my wife’s father died. A man neither of us had ever met.)

But, as much as I would very much like my sister in my life, I can’t deny it is for myself, not for her.
And, if it would cause her pain and hardship, how can I willing put her through that just for my own desires?

There is zero doubt in my mind that she was my father’s favorite child. The daughter of his first wife, who was the love of his life.
But, he wouldn’t tell her he loved her when she really needed to hear it.
And, I had promised he would.
No, I don’t blame myself for that. Up until the moment I handed him the phone, he told me he would say it. The blame is totally on him.
It did hurt my credibility with my sister and link me more firmly with what she was trying to escape.
All I can say is that I honestly thought she should know why my father stopped talking with her and that he was trying to save some relationship with her by doing it.

I would very much like my sister to be part of my life as she was when I was young.
But, I won’t try and get that to happen if doing it would cause her pain.

Comments

[mariness.livejournal.com]

For what it's worth, when we moved to Illinois my mother did write her, partly because they hadn't seen each other for years at that point, partly because we were all a bit overwhelmed by the whole returning to the U.S. thing and my mother was looking for something familiar.

A couple of letters were exchanged, but never anything more than that. So it wasn't just you.

The entire thing was also kinda confusing when I was a kid because when the Aunt Grace of this story was mentioned, I'd get her confused with Aunt Grace of Aunt Grace and Uncle Bill, and it was often very hard to figure out who we were talking about, especially when I learned that Aunt Grace of Aunt Grace and Uncle Bill was not actually an Aunt at all but a cousin by marriage.

Your father could smile. It was rare, but it did happen.

[fbhjr.livejournal.com]

I know my father could still smile and it really wasn't that rare.
But, not the way he smiled when Anne was young and he got to spend time with her.

And, I know it isn't just me. It's her whole early life. No one still has contact with her.

[labelleizzy.livejournal.com]

ye gods. What a sad story.
I'm sorry, Frank. I think it's easier on me that my brother's dead, than to have a living sister and not be able to talk to her.
I'm really sorry.

[peterb.livejournal.com]

That's a sad tale :(

[pallid-regina.livejournal.com]

That is a very sad story. In your shoes I think I'd be trying to keep a connection, even a tiny one, as well.

[evrgreen.livejournal.com]

This is such a very sad story. While I think that I can comprehend the logic your father employed for his actions - or lack of action - I still don't understand why he could never overcome his personal gridlock, and I suppose none of us will. It is terrible that it caused such terrible destruction to your sister's life, and I'm sure that the scars from it are the reason she has these issues today, and sadly, you are caught in the middle - you are not the cause of any of these problems, yet, your very presence brings up all these memories. A very difficult dilemma, indeed.

I think that I'd have tried all the same things were I in your shoes, but, I think that ultimately, you truly have done all that you can for now. Your sister may eventually come around to wanting to restart a familial relationaship with you on her own terms, when she has dealt with her own basement full of skeletons. Or she may not reach that point. I hope that someday, before long, she does. Just live in the moment for now, with just a tiny bit of hope of how wonderful such a surprise as that may be if you were to get a phone call from her someday. The universe may deliver - but on her timetable..

[cissa.livejournal.com]

That is so sad. It's sad past sad, into classic tragedy in a lot of ways.

I wish Anne the best. I'm sorry that her pain has meant rejecting you as well as the people who caused it.

*hugs*

[jenny_evergreen]

What a tragedy. I am glad you are respecting her wishes, but sorry for the cost.

[fbhjr.livejournal.com]

As am I.

So, that is why I check in on the Rockford paper. I hope not to see her name.

[chaquir.livejournal.com]

I'm really heartbroken after having read this Frank.
What a sad story for you both, your sister and you. She had a horrible youth, but you're not to blame of that.
Ok, you promised her that your dad would tell her he loves her on the phone. But what if he had done that? She might've started to think that he was forced and it didn't came out of his heart anyway.
It's "her"' choice to stay away. But still.. perhaps you can send her a letter again and tell her you would love to have a sister in your life. And ask her if you and her can perhaps start over. Tell her you love her and miss her. That you dream of her and are worried sick something happened to her after that dream.

(((hugs)))

[fbhjr.livejournal.com]

When I went to Wales last month I sent her a bunch of postcards from there. It falls under the "Frank leaves the country" exclusion.
And, before that I had written to her on her birthday, just because I felt the need.

In all of my correspondences I do my best to make clear that I love her and she is always welcome in my life at any time. I have no idea if any of those are read as none have received a response.
But, I will still try from time to time.

[chaquir.livejournal.com]

I really REALLY hope for you that -one day- you'll succeed.

(((hugs)))