No More Talking
“Divorce” the letter read; “violence,” it went on.
A long-distance call made: “I can’t talk now!
He’s harassing me again.”
Hours later a phone rings, and two sisters talk.
One tells of a hurting heart and ten years of pain;
the other sobs in silence.
“Calling the police was easy,
I wish I would have done it sooner.”
Days later, another caller, “She’s gone.
No one knows where. She never showed up at work.
Her husband says she just walked out.”
Disbelief fills a sister’s heart,
Too many questions invade her mind:
Why would she leave her kids?
Why didn’t she take her car?
Why not wait for the money that would be hers the next day?
Some questions in life get answered, and some take time.
It has been thirty-five years since two sisters talked,
and one still hurts.
We were supposed to grow old together and talk for hours on the phone. We were supposed to exchange pictures and funny stories of our grandchildren. To have get-togethers and laugh for hours.
You never got to meet your grandchildren, Peggy. You hardly got to raise your own.
I hate death. Hate. It. Death changed our family forever when we lost our mom. Then Dad died eight years later. And six years after that, Peggy disappeared. We know she’s dead, we just don’t have her body. Just her empty grave.
Grief is such a hard part of life. And when you continually lose one person after another, it feels like it never ends.
Forget about what grief books tell you. Grief is not something with an easy formula. Grief is messy. And long lasting. Grief visits without warning and stays.
I will always miss my sister. Why? Because I loved her. She loved me. We were part of a family. And when you lose someone you love, it’s like you’ve lost a part of you. A very important part.
I wrote her story
Though it was one of the hardest things I ever did, I wrote Peggy’s story. It’s not just her story, it’s mine too. Broken: A story of abuse and survival. I wrote that book because I didn’t want anyone else to go through what we went through.
But the reality is, there are many people who are being abused. Some will escape it, some will not.
I wrote Broken so those who are abused will know they are not alone. And if they tell someone, they may have a different life. But first they need to share it with someone.
Peggy waited too long. If only we had known.
There isn’t a holiday where we don’t miss her. And when her birthday comes it’s the same thing.
Peggy’s birthday is April 15th. And in honor of my sister, I want to offer Broken for 99 cents for the Kindle copy. April 16th, it will be $1.99 and the April 17th, it will be $2.99.
If you are struggling in your relationship, I want you to buy this book. If you know someone who is in an abusive relationship, buy it for that person.
Broken was written to give hope, and the truth is we’re all broken.
About Anne Peterson
I write words you can feel, sometimes they rhyme. If I'm not writing, I'm telling stories from my head, to little ones who call me grandma.