There was always a man in Anne’s life.
Even before my birth, my sister had been engaged and later called off the engagement without any explanation to the family.
I loved and adored the man she married. To this day, I keep in touch with him and in my eyes he will always be my brother. I have no memory of any time in my life when he wasn’t there; he’s simply part of my family, a member who I hold very dear to my heart.
Unfortunately Anne didn’t feel the same way about her first husband. Who knows why she chose to marry him and to continue living for fifteen years in a marriage that was hardly to her liking.
But that was the way Anne lived her life. She made her choices for her own reasons. Nothing swayed her to think otherwise.
Anne’s delightful, flirtatious personality drew men to her like bees to a honey pot. She was never short of admirers.
And as Anne prepared to leave her husband, I prepared myself for marriage.
To cut a long and complicated story short and also to divert from a story long gone and best forgotten, I married a Catholic. I’m a Protestant. Even during the late 1970’s my marriage was regarded as a mixed marriage.
My staunch Protestant mother refused to attend my marriage as it would take place in a Catholic Church. My Dad followed her lead, as did my two younger sisters.
But true to form, Anne was there. Anne was always there for me, as I was always there for her. Anne followed her own advice, the same advice she had instilled into me for a number of years ~ do what is right for you. And for Anne, the right thing to do was to be my Matron-of-Honour at my wedding.
Accompanying Anne to my wedding was her latest love, although this love did not last for long. Soon after my wedding day he had been replaced by an old flame from years gone by.
Just three months after my first child was born Anne and her old flame were married.
For a period of time he seemed to be the ideal choice of husband for my sister. But he couldn’t keep up the pretence forever and before long his true colours were showing.
He resented anyone close to Anne and Anne and I were as close as any two sisters could be.
Being a man with an extremely dominant personality, he didn’t appreciate Anne’s independent streak. While he enjoyed the playful, witty banter which he and Anne engaged in, he could not, and did not, tolerate her strength of will, to rival his own.
Anne only stayed with husband number two for financial reasons. Bottom line, he provided a roof over her head. By complaining profusely about his nightly snoring, Anne managed to manoeuvre her way out of his bed and into a separate bedroom of her own.
Anne’s husband was nothing short of rude toward my husband and me, as was the case with most members of our family. I don’t wish to dwell on his unpleasant personality, but future posts will explain my reasons for emphasising his dominant, controlling, arrogant personality.
My sister made her choices of the men in her life for reasons I’m sure were best known to her alone. She rarely seemed to be happy. Always searching for something else; something more than what she already had.
I strongly doubt that the perfect partner for my sister actually existed.