My younger sister, Julia, is one of the most kind-hearted people I know. She is the sort of person who will give you anything she has, without a moment’s hesitation — even when she has nothing. Her heart is strong and true.
Although she was married once (to guitarist George Lynch) she has never had any children — instead choosing to lavish all her abundant love and affection onto her four cats. These kitties are so well loved that when their mother is away from home for any amount of time over just a few hours, she lets them know they’re adored via a method that always make me belly laugh out loud whenever I think of it: She leaves the volume on her home answering machine turned all the way on blast and she calls and talks to them…calls them over by name to tell them hello and that mama is coming home soon. This practice amuses me no end, as I always imagine those fucking cats hauling fat ass to the kitchen counter and mewing and rubbing up against the answering machine when they hear her sweet, dulcet voice echoing throughout the house.
As my regular readers know, I have several sisters (6 0r 7, I always answer when asked. I never can remember exactly) all lovely — but none so lovely as Julia. Not a week goes by that someone doesn’t comment that she looks like either Phoebe Cates or Talisa Soto. She also has big, gorgeous jugs and an exquisite body — all covered with smooth bronze skin. She is as beautiful outside as she is inside.
Along with those looks, she has also been blessed with a voice like an angel; in fact, in her late 20’s, she spent several years singing in various nightclubs in Tokyo. She used to send me funny letters and postcards documenting her journey — and was always accommodating when I would make ridiculous requests of her, asking to see pictures of the all-talent pink plastic Japanese appliances in which she washed her clothes and dishes, as well as the interesting assortment of wacky foodstuff peppering the shelves of her local grocer.
Lest you think that Julia has a life of ease and perfection, I need to tell you that along with her many virtues and gifts, she was also cursed with a very perilous, incurable condition: Bi-polar Disorder (Type I). This means that along with all of the joy and love in her life come many trials and difficulties. In her quest for respite from the relentless onslaught of her mental illness, she has spent the past few years self-medicating with alcohol. This has led to episodes of depression so deafening that, in the past, she has attempted suicide on five separate occasions.
But, last year, after her doctor told her that although she is only 34, the alcohol was starting to take its toll on her body, she went to an AA meeting and hasn’t looked back. She has been sober for over eight months, gotten on the necessary medication to control her condition, and has been successfully working hard to get her life back on track. We are all so proud of her.
My sweet little sister’s body was found this morning. She is dead.
I am dead.