Tell Your Sisters How You Really Feel. Are You Insane?!
The Importance of Keeping Your Mouth Shut
During a three-way text yesterday, my two sisters complained about this summer’s weather. One was griping about the smoke and even sent a photo to prove that the forest fire smoke dared to obscure her spectacular view of the Pacific Ocean from her mountainside home.
The other sister lives in the same city as me and lamented that the whole summer was a mess weatherwise—smoke, excessive heat — just awful.
Both concluded that the whole year to date was a write-off.
I read this to my husband and commented these guys were nothing but complainers. The weather (aside from intermittent smoke days) had been spectacular! A long, hot spring and summer, and it wasn’t over yet. I wanted to text back, remind them how lucky we were, and tell them to stop whining.
If I had responded to my sisters yesterday, I would have said that this summer was wonderful, with perfect weather. I have been enjoying myself immensely, filled with golfing with my ladies’ group, lunching with friends, and travelling with my husband. Even driving my little Mini convertible (bought for me through my deceased son’s astral influence — which is another story) has been a joy. I pretend he sits beside me as we whirl around town and country with the top down. After many dark days, the sun is finally coming out, and I am healing.
Anyway, my insightful husband moved to within inches of my face, looked directly into my eyes and said under no circumstances was I to send that text! Let it go. It isn’t important. And this was probably the best advice I have ever received. Here’s why.
“You may be looking out at the ocean but you’re not seeing the water.”
My one sister, who lives on the coast, had a skiing accident this spring and broke her foot badly, requiring surgery. A very active person, she has been hobbling around on crutches for months, in a great deal of pain. It will be late fall before she expects to be able to walk, garden, ski, golf or partake in any of her many passions. And as we know, injuries in our later years (the three of us are in our sixties) tend to stick around permanently.
And while this is all going on, she is caring for our elderly mother, who has been in steady decline since last Christmas, suffering from the onset of dementia after coming down with COVID. An incredibly active, healthy woman who loved to paint and play piano, she is now blind and finds it difficult to remember what happened 15 minutes ago, let alone recall our names.
My other sister, who lives about 30 minutes from me, is, by nature, quiet and reserved and loves to spend time with her daughters and grandchildren. One of her favourite pastimes is maintaining her lovely garden. Her granddaughter passed away tragically a couple of months ago. The devastation of this turned her world upside down. It will be a very long healing process for both mother and daughter.
My son passed away nine months ago. Everything I knew about my life came crashing down around me. We were extremely close, and I thought I couldn’t carry on without him. GriefShare meetings and time have done wonders. But I feel like the Apple logo; my life has a chunk bitten out, and I will never be whole again. I am repairing myself, but something will always be missing.
No one sees life through the same pair of glasses. Yesterday I spent most of my day welling up with tears, thinking about how sad I was that my son was not with us. Today, I feel grateful for all the things starting to unfold in my new life. There are many highs and lows.
Should I have texted my sisters back to remind them that, in my opinion, they are being ungrateful for this beautiful summer? The weather really has little to do with how it’s going. We don’t get to tell someone else how they should be feeling. Take a breath, use compassion, and keep in mind you have no idea what makes a glorious season for someone else.
