crazy time

I spent this weekend in Beaverton, helping my sister move things out of the house she shared with her husband. She is getting a divorce. They have been married for two years. She has been unhappy for some time, but only recently did they start talking about the troubles in their marriage and begin counseling. She is sure that this is the best decision for her, and I support her 100%. I want her to be happy.

Unfortunately, she's just been laid off (it's a union thing), so instead of moving into an apartment, she's moving into the home of a very close friend's mom for now. I helped move a bed in there; most of the other things we moved are in a storage unit.

She was glad to have me there, and I was of use.

I feel guilty that I didn't realize she was so unhappy--she never copped to it before the last six weeks or so, she was in denial, and as the now-abdicated Queen of Denial, I know exactly how that works. But I feel as a sister I should have realized something was wrong. This guilt I can mostly suppress. The most prominent guilt is for how exhausted I am after this weekend. Some of it is emotional--I gave her as much love and support as I possibly could. That is my purpose. If I feel spent after this weekend, I can only imagine how drained SHE must feel, and my own exhaustion seems irrelevant and wimpy--anything I can possibly do to make things easier for her, to support her, I'll do it, no questions asked. By yesterday afternoon, I was looking forward to getting home, because I was tired, but I was simultaneously reluctant to leave her. She is an incredibly strong person, and I know she's going to be OK--in fact she'll become wiser and even stronger through the experience. But I just felt like I hadn't given her enough hugs. I could have stayed there two more hours just hugging. I love my sister.