Loud Silence

She probably doesn't remember that I carried her a lot. But I did. She was my favourite person at the time. Anyone who knew her then can attest to her beauty. I loved her so much. Any time I had a bad day, her smile changed everything and put a smile on my face too. She was so playful - happy, very happy. Somehow, she felt the love I had for her and reciprocated by always reaching out for me. She was eight years younger than I, but we had a bond like neither of us had with any other and I did everything I could to make sure it stayed that way.

But life has a way of separating people. Before we both knew it, time had flown by so fast. We both grew older and it was time for her to go to boarding school, while I jetted off to college in America. Separated by space and time, we lost touch. I mean, we still saw each other during the holidays, but it felt like we were strangers. I felt like I did not know her anymore. Apart from the obvious physical changes we had both gone through, things just felt different. Of course, I still loved her, and she still loved me, but it just wasn't quite the same.  

I noticed she had gotten a lot closer to my elder sister and, I have to admit, I was quite jealous. I watched in envy as they shared jokes I obviously didn't get. In the past, I was her favourite person, but she increasingly spent more time in my sisters room than in mine. It wasn't like I couldn't have simply walked over to join them in the other room, but I just wanted others to join us in my room. Awkward moments became quite frequent as we discovered we didn't always have things to talk about. I noticed the monumental changes in our relationship, but we never addressed them. 

Things became worse when I sent a mail in which I came out to her. I wasn't sure what I expected. No. Scratch that. I expected support. I didn't need approval, but I wanted her to say that she respected and supported me as long as I was happy. I was so affected by her strong expression of utter disappointment that I was tempted to be disappointed in myself. 

As I read her reply email, my heart broke and I felt hot tears rolling down my face. I felt bad that I disappointed my little sister who had put me on a pedestal. But I expected her to understand, and given the fact that she had spent a significant amount of time in the UK, I did not anticipate that my coming out as lesbian would be so strange to her. I was angry. Hurt. Disappointed too. I did not respond to her mail because I did not know what to say. 

I had gotten similar messages of rejection, disappointment, and even anger from other family members, but somehow this one hurt the most. It was coming from my baby. I felt like I had let down my favourite person in the family. I believed we had a strong connection and hoped, against all odds, that it would count for something. Perhaps, it did and that was probably why we were both so affected. 

I continued crying on my bed as I wished I could change things. But there was nothing I could do about my sexual orientation. It was part of who I was, and it didn't help that we were miles apart and couldn't have a face-to-face discussion about this.

We both just let things be and all we had between us was loud silence. 

*********************************************************************************

I’m not sure what my baby expected me to be, or how she expected me to be. For  months, I pondered on why she’d put me on pedestal. How did she view me? What was she expecting me to turn out to be?  What did she expect me to do? Answers to all these will probably explain why she felt so let down and disappointed. But I never got those answers. Well, I never asked. We never talked about it.

Instead, I felt a sense of loss and I dwelt in it rather than deal with it. I kept my distance, only speaking on birthdays, Christmas, or when we were both home on holidays. She is my sister, I still love her more than anything, and nothing in the world can change that.  But things have never been the same between us. 

I am not sure how she dealt with those feelings of disappointment. Again, I never asked. Frankly, I have never dealt with mine either. In fact, this is the first time I am voicing these feelings, and it is the most emotional post, and that is why I avoided it for so long. Alas, here I am, finally confronting my feelings of loss and crying as I type. But I have no apologies for being true to myself, to her, my family, and living my truth. At the very least, I owe myself, and everyone I love, honesty. 

I still yearn to get my baby back, and this experience has taught me to never put anyone on a pedestal. In retrospect, I put her on a pedestal too. I expected her to react better than everyone else. I elevated her to a certain level of superiority, and when she did not live up to those expectations, I was very disappointed, which ultimately led to my deep feelings of loss and rejection.

I have also learned that telling a person that I am disappointed in them is not what to say to anyone who comes out of the closet.