May Day 2010, I stood beside my oldest sister holding her left hand. I knew God was taking her, but I also knew she didn’t want to let go. My mother was on the other side of her. I whispered into her ear that I loved her and it was okay to go.

I felt such a sense of relief that day, a lot of sadness and regret, but relief too. I had lost her so many times before. Lindee was the cutest little woman with the sweetest little Texan accent. She loved big, especially her kids and grandkids. She was undeniably the best at taking care of babies. I’m pretty sure I got some of my love for children from watching her with her kids when they were babies. She was the happiest around children. She was always singing and smiling around them.

Lindee developed agoraphobia while living down in Texas. 

“Agoraphobia is a type of anxiety disorder. Agoraphobia involves fearing and avoiding places or situations that might cause panic and feelings of being trapped, helpless or embarrassed.” – Mayo Clinic.

She was put on anxiety medicine and began drinking heavily with it. She was trying to numb the anxiety. She eventually developed an addiction to the medication and alcohol.

“In fact, there is a very strong correlation between alcohol and drug addiction and general anxiety disorder. This makes sense because those that consistently feel uncomfortable can find respite in a substance. However, it is not long before there is a paradoxical effect that turns the short-term comfort of the substance into increased symptoms of anxiety when the individual discontinues use. This in turn leads to more abuse in more chronic settings.” – Dr. Lisa Strohman

She moved back to her home state in 1989 and we had high hopes that she would get better. She did get better, but it never lasted long. The addiction always took control. I remember her telling me once that she loved her children so much and she wanted more than anything to stay sober for them, but addiction doesn’t care how much love there is or how much love you stand to lose. She said “If love could keep me from drinking, I would never drink again!” I knew she was speaking the truth.

“Addiction is a monster; it lives inside, and feeds off of you, takes from you, controls you, and destroys you. It is a beast that tears you apart, rips out your soul, and laughs at your weakness. It is a stone wall that stands to keep you in and the rest out. It is a shadow that always lurks behind you, waiting to strike. Addiction lives in everyone’s mind, sitting, staring, waiting…” – Anonymous

Right after I had Haley, I was the director at a child care center in a nursing home facility. We only took ages 2 and older.  My sister Lindee was sober at the time, so I hired her to take care of my kids. We became so close. She was not just my big sister, she was my best friend too. She loved being my nanny and was so good at it!  She really doted on Haley! I honestly believed she would stay sober. When she didn’t, it crushed me! Each time… it crushed me!

Over the next 10 years, she would go in and out of treatment centers, hospitals, and even jails. I hired her at my center once when she was sober and threatened her that she could never drink again. Obviously, threats don’t work any better than love to cure addiction. 

In 2008, I decided I was done with her. She had been drinking again and I fired her. She called my clients at their home trying to get sympathy and begging them to hire her to personally care for their kids. This was the last straw, I was full of rage. I bought 2 big bottles of vodka and took them to her. I really wanted to pour them down her throat. I think I just wanted it to be over right then! I told her I was done, that I wasn’t going to watch her kill herself anymore and I wouldn’t let my kids be subjected to it either. We would still see each other from time to time at mom’s for family gatherings, but I tried hard not to be there at the same time. 

We finally made amends in 2009 after she was diagnosed with Esophageal Cancer. I was sure it was from all the alcohol she had drank.

I remember being in the doctor’s office with her and our mom after she was first diagnosed. They told her there was no chance of survival. We talked about how the doctors had given the same prognosis to me too!  Not accepting treatment meant you were giving up and allowing your fate to be determined by the cancer. Accepting treatment, as we saw it, meant giving God the power to heal through medical doctors and medicine. She decided that ultimately it was God’s will and she wasn’t going to go out without a fight.

After the first round of radiation therapy, the doctors were amazed and felt like there was a significant chance of survival. We were so confident and hopeful. Life wasn’t perfect, but we were all alive, and none of us took that for granted! Eventually, the cancer started to take over the rest of her little body. She ended up needing a tracheotomy and that was tough to live with. It would get so sore and infected with the medications. She was miserable, but she didn’t want to give up. She tried to stay really positive. I brought my kids to the hospital a few days before she passed so they could see her. She started to cry and said “What? Did you bring them in to say goodbye? I don’t want to die!” I told her we were there to visit, and she wasn’t going to die, but she knew. I still feel bad about that visit.

If you have lived with an addict, you know how exhausting it can be. There was always a sense of relief when she was in jail or treatment, because then we knew, at least she was safe and was on someone else’s watch. I hated how my mother was broken, emotionally and physically, trying to help Lindee all the time. She worried 24/7. Even during her treatments for the cancer, when Lindee got the opportunity to drink, she still would.

 “Addiction is a family disease.  One person may use, but the whole family suffers.” – unknown.

I don’t think that I knew how to grieve her death. I had spent so many years expecting her to be found dead. Years of thinking life would be so much easier on everyone if she was dead. I had lost all hope of any rehabilitation for her addictions. I was sad when she died, but I was relieved she didn’t have to fight this battle anymore. No more battles with addiction; no more battles with cancer. 

I didn’t feel real deep grief for her until this last year. I was at my niece’s memorial and two of Lindee’s kids were there. We got to spend time together for the first time in decades. Her youngest daughter had a new baby girl that was the spitting image of her. And her son was there with his youngest son. I found out that Lindee’s grandson had just had a son of his own. That made Lindee a great grandma. Standing there with her kids and grandkids broke my heart! I started to sob in a way I didn’t  expect. It had been over twelve years since her death and I was hurting because she should have been there. She should have been doting on her kids and grandkids. Suddenly I felt guilt for all the times I had decided she was in a better place. How could there be any better place than with your kids and grandkids? I know that she is with them. I know she hasn’t missed a second of their lives. But they will never know her, the healthy her. That’s what breaks my heart. I held her baby granddaughter and sang her the songs that Lindee would sing as tears ran down my face. 

Our family was brought together to grieve the loss of my brother’s daughter. I knew it would trigger the trauma of losing my son. It definitely did. I was not expecting to feel such grief for the loss of my sister. I thought I had accepted her death. Maybe I had spent so long preparing for it, that when it actually happened I only focused on what pain she wouldn’t have to endure anymore. I didn’t realize there were going to be life events that we would need her with us. I didn’t realize I was going to miss her so much.

“Delayed grief is an experience of feeling deep sorrow, long after experiencing the death of someone you are close with. It is when our emotional reaction to loss doesn’t happen right away. Somehow the reaction is postponed. Pushed off for months, years, or even decades.” – Esther Goldstein LCSW

I am proud that I can share this story and grieve for my sister. I grieve for her because I love and miss her more today than I ever have before. Regardless that grief looks different for everyone and feels different with every loss, it is still a normal human response to loss. You will feel grief as long as you feel love for those that have passed. 

#addict, #cancer, #sister, #777, #dragonfly, #childloss, #grief, #depression, #surviving, #signs, #suicide, #shattered, #heart, #family, #therapy, #healing, #love, #missingyou, #broken, #friends, #trust, #faith, #heaven, #journey,