The next day Holly had written back to
me:
I
don’t even know what to say except this sucks and we can’t even begin to tell
you how sorry we are that you’re going through this. Of course I am willing to be tissue typed and
will wait to hear what I have to do. Please
don’t consider it a favor, I want to do this. This has got be tough on all of
you. Alex and the girls must be thankful
as we are that you are a strong and positive person. It sounds like you’re in good hands
medically, and with a good treatment plan in place. Keep in touch as you feel up to it. Know that we love you and are thinking of
you. Dream about zapping bad cells. Love Holly &Chris.
I
got an email from Ben: Whatever yoooooou need me to
doooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.
But
there was no reply from Lewis. I waited several days then with sweaty hands I
finally wrote:
Hi
Lewis, Thanks for getting involved. Please email me your address and contact
phone numbers so I can forward them to the hospital ASAP.
Although
it was only a few words, I had re-written them over and over again. It was
extremely difficult to be civil to the bastard who abused me. The “thanks for
getting involved” was a pre-emptive strike to actually get him to be involved.
Every pleasant but soul-destroying word in the email took me back to my
childhood. I was ten years old again, pleading for him not to call me “dufus”
for the hundredth time, hoping he wouldn’t break my arms, listening to him lie
to my parents without a hint of remorse. I wouldn’t give him the time of day if
I met him in the street. I never wanted to have a relationship with him again
but what if he was the only one who could save my life? With my luck that’s
exactly what would happen. Surely in spite of everything, in his late fifties
he was now a changed man and had some ethics. Surely he would participate in
saving his sister’s life. I would just have to swallow all the hate, anger and
fear for the bigger picture. I pressed the button to “send”.
Abby
suggested that since Lewis was married at age 21 when I was only 17, our
estrangement may be due to the fact we never got a chance to reconcile as
adults. She wondered if it would have made a difference if we had spent time
together in our thirties as I did with my other siblings. I just shook my head.
I loved her faith and enthusiasm. But there are some things we can’t fix. I had
never told the children about my older brother. Instead I carried the abuse
around in a corner of my brain that I fought on a daily basis not to access. It
was never my intention to tell them because I didn’t want to relive it for my
own sanity. I swore I would take it to my grave and I probably would have if
the need to contact him had not arisen.
But now that the memories were flooding out, it seemed unfair and unjust
to let him get away with it a second time. Why should I carry his guilt to my
grave? He didn’t deserve that.
Goodbye Keanu at
www.amazon.com/goodbye+keanu
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