Where Did It All Go Wrong?


People. Family. Relationships. Where do they go wrong?

It’s strange to me how little memories can seep in and bring on existential questions. I was at dinner a little while back, my birthday dinner actually, and I was enjoying a nice glass of red wine, a Chateau St. Michelle Indian Wells Merlot. I offered my 25-year-old step-son a sip and was telling him how I used to hate red wine, that I started out only liking white wines, and the sweeter ones at that, which took me back in my memory to my 21st birthday when my oldest sister, Sharon, took me to a “Taste of Downtown” event in our small hometown, a big event where for a small price we could taste all kinds of different wines from local wineries along with lots of bites and nibbles of different snacks and foods.

It was fun and exciting – me with my big sis! She even made one booth card me since it was my 21st birthday. We were very different but I looked up to her back then, me 21 and she 29. There wasn’t much to the memory but fun and laughter, and wine of course. But back in the real world of one week ago, at the dinner table on my birthday with my husband and step-son, sipping my glass of red wine, I found myself feeling a little sad and wondering – where did it all go wrong?

How did my sisters and I go from being so close that we accepted each other’s faults and could just laugh and have fun together to hating each other so much that we not only don’t talk anymore but one of us, Sharon, willfully hurts the other? How does that happen? What changes a person that much?

I can say it was the abuse in our childhoods, and I know that is part of it, but many families have endured such tragedy and not suffered the fate that we have. No, it can’t be just that. I know I will never have my answer. And so, there will be moments in my life, simple moments, when small memories will play like a black and white movie reel in my mind and it will make me wonder – how did it all go wrong?



One thought on “Where Did It All Go Wrong?

  1. I have those same moments, wondering how the brother I used to play atari games and build forts with will no longer speak to me. I try to hold on to the connection we used to have and think maybe our story is not yet over, that given time to heal separately we can one day come back together. I’ll leave a door open, or at least unlocked. Until then we grieve our loss and try to make sense of it


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