My sister had obtained a huge TV since the last time I visited. It didn’t work though. There was a little TV sitting in front of it, and it was tuned to a station that plays old movies all the time. Who cares. It’s probably a common story: The big TV went out. We need TV. Turn on that small, backup TV. Good thing we didn’t throw that bitch out. It’s over there . . . behind those huge mounds of old stuff we refuse to throw out.
I have experienced anger over my sister’s situation many many times over the years. Why is she living like that?!?! I could barely breathe in her place. The pet dander was horrible. My airway seemed to constrict, refusing the air I was trying to breathe. It’s not my sister’s fault, and it’s fucked up to sit here and complain about it. Both my sister and her husband are on disability. My sister’s claim is the real deal, her back is seriously thrashed. She has had every kind of back trouble you can name. Degenerative. One big injury, and then once things start going, more things follow. Her husband’s claim . . .I’ll not mention the ‘detail’ of that . . . that’s a major source of anger for me . .. anyway . . . My sister spends all of her time in a painkiller paralysis. I try to have conversations with her, but she just wanders, verbally. She slurs fragments and broken thoughts, her mind is hobbled by the strong medication. She’s not really saying anything. She will speak at length, uttering whatever words and fragments and disorganized sentences make it up from her mostly numbed mind. None of what I say to registers to her, so I mostly remain quiet and listen. I look at her. I look at the little TV. I look at her. I look at the little TV. The closed caption setting is on so I read the words the actors are saying on the quiet little TV.
I love my sister. I try to visit as often as I can. Now that I live much closer, three hours away, I’ll be able to visit her more often.
Her neighborhood is a scary, dangerous place. One time some guys snuck into her yard and opened fire at some dudes across the street. Those dudes started shooting back. Bullets were hitting her house. She and her husband hit the floor. Another time her husband and her son were eyewitnesses to a murder, right in front of their house. Cops cops cops. People walking around warning: Don’t be snitchin.
I love my sister. I cry sometimes when I leave her place to head back home out of state. I just fuckin cry. This time though, I was just relieved to be leaving. And I was angry. And I felt helpless and hopeless, and I felt certain that more dreadful events were on the horizon for our family. Her other son got locked up last week. Both her sons are locked up now. My other nephew is locked up too, my brother’ son (my late brother). Three of them locked up now. I’m going to stop typing stuff now.