As sister & I grew, we definitely grew in our own directions. Soon after our father’s passing, younger Sibling moved to Grandma’s, which was unfortunately located right next to a Rocketdyne plant… in a gang neighborhood. Sibling was outright more prepared to dress like her local, surrounding Hispanic friends, and then “play the part.” I just didn’t have the heart to try that. At that age… I was skinny, Caucasian & pissed-off, at best. Sure, I knew how to fight… but I wasn’t trying to hang out with a bunch of angry, neglected, grandstanding teenagers… then test that fighting capacity, all the time, for a bunch of drunk Mexican kids.

Poor young Sibling was more tolerant of the natural deficiencies in this particular social contingent. Things like prior criminal records, outstanding charges, warrants or legal histories of any sort simply weren’t things she “reviewed.” And how would she? The only ones back then with internet access were either the wealthiest in our neighborhoods (a rarity)… or employees of an ISP (which were few & far between). No way was she walkin’ into a Cop Shop to background-check Fernando Consuelo Escobar Hernandez Diaz from f°°kin Van Nuys.

I myself was lucky to find employment with an ISP while young. It took me pretty far, right then & there. Meanwhile, Sister worked with a “different type” of “three-letter organization,” and if you’re catching my drift here… an “employee of the month” performance earned her a first-born son.

Once Sibling had children, they became my familial “focus.” Sibling’s son & two daughters, as freakin’ awesome as they’ve all grown to become, each started that way… on their own, individually. Having had to deal with Sibling for as long as they have… for them to turn out as well as they have is nothing short of a Goddamn miracle, in my eyes. Sibling’s follow-up choice in male partner, once her first two baby-daddies outright failed her, has been a good man. Her first two “draft picks” turned out to be absolute nightmares… in one of their instances, I was actually asked to “kick his ass” for getting physical with Sibling. I never saw the poor kid again. The boyfriend of hers that came afterward was a lot cooler… my guess is that he had tolerance like mine (very little), so eventually he made tracks. I don’t blame him at all.

Baby Daddy #3 has, thus far, been good to the family from what I understand. And I mean, hell, he’s got the heart to continually put up with Sibling. This man deserves a medal of honor.

Ultimately, Sibling has gone on to “contribute,” in her own ways. Nonetheless, what matters the most to me is the well-being of her children. I want to see them go on to achieve, to succeed and thrive. They deserve even better than how they were raised, better than how their mother & Uncle Hojak were raised. They have the rights to thrive, and hit their pinnacles independently. Truthfully, I can see those kids going on to achieve more than her and I have together. They’ll each reach that pinnacle in the ways they see fit, and coherently so.

Even with all the hardship that my life saw apart from my upbringing, I succeeded. In my eyes, her kids have everything they need to not only “make it”… if they want to, they’ll make it as proverbial ROCK STARS. Each has talent & gifts to share with the world… or maybe just their closest loved one. Whatever their cases, they’re ready to go… and they’ve got every reason to want to get the F##K outta “Mom’s,” just like I did at their age. By now, they’ve put up with all the years I didn’t have to. For me, my mother died more than two decades ago… yet through Sibling & what her kids withstand, unfortunately, Mom’s still “here.” Some legacies never die… then, they say old habits die hard. I fail to understand how Sibling became so bottle-happy, given that she saw our “Mom situation.”

Sibling’s probably “sheltered herself” throughout most of what society’s had to encumber in the last four decades. She isn’t interested in world or local news. The print she cares most about is on the front of her liquor bottle for the night. I’ve wanted to share SO much with her, as family… I’ve wanted to encourage her by way of showing her what I’ve achieved & where I’ve been, despite my hardships. I’ve wanted to encourage her to ween away from drinking… if even via a practice referred to by some as “addiction substitution.” Yes, it’s true… I was going to suggest Sibling take up “herbal medicine,” instead of alcoholism. Pardon the f##k outta me. I never want to see her pass like Mom had to.

Throughout moves from state to state, our contact has been minimal. I’ve not come close to asking her, or her family, for any assistance. There have been times where funds were minimal, and I’ve actually stated out loud… “I’d rather starve, or sell ass, than ask <Sibling> for a single, solitary, goddamn dime.”

It’s not that I don’t love Sibling… not at all. Throughout our youth, we’d maintained a strongly childlike relationship… yet once she became “adult” enough to move out and “play wifey,” MAN, did all that change. Sibling spends her days holding down the job they have to, for now. Her nights are probably spent drinking herself into delirium… even weekends. I hate to expect any of these things. I want to see her outperform our goddamn parents, and make those children of hers proud. Her family deserves bragging rights… to be proud of her for something, other than just going a few days without a drink. That’s got to be all they have left to be happy about, whenever they talk to her. Having “seen it” from that perspective, it hurts.

Maybe a day will come when she wants to talk again, and officially reconnect this family of ours. Should that day not ever arrive, it is what it is. The children have my number, plus they can reach me a multitude of ways. I’ll always be here for them. The same goes for family, at this stage in life… if you don’t realize that you’re close to, if not, “halfway there”…… MAN, do you have some catching-up to do!!!

Then again, there’s always the possibility that I somehow made her angry by commenting on her drinking to her… which has happened before. Last time we went without talking, her temper-tantrum lasted years. I truly hope that one day, for the sake of her family, she’ll take to understanding how short life is. Her temper-tantrums when younger were less “time-sensitive.” Now in our middle-ages, both of our parents are dead & she’s doing herself in like one already has… and if I was out there railing heroin & hanging with fiends, I’d expect wife to worry.

“I know you feel the way I change, but you can’t change the way I feel…”

~Chris Cornell