Your childhood was a painful one. You were hurt. I was a child myself and we tried to protect each other from the violence (emotional and physical). You got the brunt of it as the only son. I wish I could have made things better, but my world was as small as yours. Shortly after your wedding day you told me I was no more your sister than you were a Mexican ballerina. I lay on the floor for hours like I'd been punched in the gut. You had chosen to keep me out of your life and you've maintained that distance for the last decade. In our years apart, I had emotionally let you go to live your life without me. I found peace with knowing you didn't want to see me, your only sibling.
Why is it then that you moved three hours away from me and I somehow saw you at a busy tourist port? You left without seeing me and before I could say hello. My emotions are once again unsettled and I am searching for a reason to why our paths crossed once again. You still do not want to communicate with me, this I know for sure. You know how to find me when you're ready. Am I supposed to set you free once again? Do I just let the years tick by without introducing you to your niece and nephew? Will this space you held in my heart remain open for you? Do I hope without really hoping? I suppose so.
What I want to say is this: Look at what I have accomplished in just one generation. I married a stable, thoughtful, kind man. We have two healthy children whom we protect and love. I want you to see what I have accomplished, to see what is possible. It was hard work getting to this point, but it was so worth it. My children and I speak of you in our daily dialogue as if you are away on an extended trip. Regardless of if we should ever speak again, you know I love you. And in my heart I know you love me too.