Dear Jessica,
In a few weeks (okay, more like a month because I keep putting it off), you’re going to receive a save the date card for my wedding in October. The actual invitations won’t be mailed for several months, but you’ll be receiving one of those as well. It will be addressed to you and any guest you may wish to bring.
When these things come in the mail, I am begging you to pause for a moment to think about exactly what they mean before you disregard them.
Like it or not, I am your sister. We’re related—neither of us has a choice in the matter. We have a father in common—and grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. For better or for worse, you are a part of me and I am a part of you.
Our father has been a real ass throughout our lives. I hope you realize that you and Colt aren’t the only ones whose childhoods he skipped out on. The only reason I ever got our father back at all was because he married your mother and settled into a new life that I could fit into more easily than the one he had before. He didn’t have to work so hard because he could dump me on his new wife.
Our father hasn’t done very many things right in his life. He was a terrible student, a hell-raising son, an awful husband and a seriously lousy father. Still, he managed to do three things right—you, me and Colt.
For that reason, on October 10th, our father will walk me down the aisle. Because if it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t be here—I wouldn’t be the person I am, and I wouldn’t be settling down with the most wonderful partner in the world.
It was not my choice to miss out on your childhood. I never would have chosen that in a million years. Ask anyone who knows me—absolutely anyone—and they’ll tell you that I would have walked to the ends of the earth for ten minutes with you. You are certainly old enough now to understand that sometimes the most crucial aspects of our lives are completely beyond our control.
So before you dismiss me—or my wedding—consider for a moment how it felt to be dismissed by our father.
I am reaching out to you, Jessica. I want so desperately just to get to know you that I look in on your MySpace status every day. (Don’t worry, you’ve blocked me so that’s all I can see.) I get these tiny little glimpses of this beautiful girl I used to know… and I want so desperately to know more. When you’re having a bad day, I want to hear about it. When you’re hurting, I want to be there to offer a hug over a latte.
Getting to know you is about as easy as chewing rocks. I can’t keep grinding away forever—eventually, my teeth will fall out.
Please consider all of this. Consider unblocking me from your life. Consider being a part of my wedding day. There’s a place next to me up there reserved just for my sister—just in case she ever decides she wants to be there. Or, there’s a seat in the audience with your name on it—even in the back row if that’s where you want to be. And you can sit at any table you want—as close or as far away from the family as you want to be.
Your sister will only get married once. And after that, in a few years, I’ll start having kids and you’ll be an aunt.
Do you really want to miss out on that? Because I sure as hell don’t want my future family to miss out on you.
All my love,
Molly
Oh, Molly… I really and truly hope that she sees this and it works for you. These letters are the hardest things in the world to write (I’ve had to undertake similar tasks in the past), and it can often be even harder to see the reactions (or lack thereof) that they receive. I’m rooting for you, girl.