She ignored our warnings for fifteen years, now she wants us to fix everything

I'm convinced my sister has sawdust for brains. For fifteen years, our parents begged her — divorce him, we'll help you, everything will be okay, just leave that loser. But my sister turned up her nose, refused, and "bravely carried her cross." Now Dad's gone, Mom can barely take care of herself, I have zero desire to get involved, and suddenly my sister has an epiphany — I'm getting divorced, help me, I have a child!

My sister Kristy is thirty-five now. At twenty, she ran off and married the most questionable guy you can imagine. He fancied himself a musician, but honestly? A complete nobody. He had some garage band once and delusions of rock stardom — completely unfounded, by the way. That's what Kristy fell for, refusing to listen to Mom, Dad, me, her friends, or anyone with common sense.

But at twenty, I felt sorry for her. She was young, naive, couldn't tell the difference between someone being something and just pretending. My heart genuinely ached for her. I wanted to explain, protect her, help her understand. But over the years, that feeling faded because while she got older, she refused to get wiser or see reality.

My parents never stopped trying to reach her. They helped her with money, were ready to take her back, provide everything she needed, help with housing — whatever it took for her to have a decent life. They could see what her marriage was doing to her.

Her husband never held a real job. Why would he? He was going to be a rock star! Working was beneath him. He was a "sensitive artist," an "exposed nerve of his generation." He drank, performed his songs, and occasionally played at small-town festivals. Nobody invited him to anything bigger because his music was, frankly, garbage.

But Kristy clung to him like he was a winning lottery ticket. She followed him to every gig, tolerated the constant drinking, the lack of steady income, even cheating and getting pushed around. He never exactly beat her on purpose, but he'd shove her, accidentally hit her while flailing his arms, knock into her during his drunken stumbles.

During those times, Kristy would run to our parents' house, hide out, eat real meals, then take money and run right back to him. She'd say we just didn't understand, that she loved him, he was going through a creative block, but things would change soon. After these visits, my parents would practically live on anxiety meds and heart pills. Because stupid as she was, she was still their daughter.

Seven years ago, Kristy had a baby with her "star." By then, even the small festivals had stopped calling him. Kristy was working while her husband hung around dive bars with other washed-up "musicians." Sometimes he'd play guitar with some cover band at restaurants or bars. As a guitarist, he was passable; his own music was worthless.

During Kristy's maternity leave, our parents had to support her, the baby, and the "star." Dad wanted to put his foot down — come home or we're cutting you off. But Kristy refused, claiming her child needed both parents, that she couldn't take him away from his father. And Mom couldn't bear the thought of her daughter and grandson going hungry.

My nephew only lived a year. He had serious health issues from birth. The doctors said there was nothing they could do. Mom had a heart attack after he died. Dad somehow held it together. And Kristy's husband? He went on a bender instead of supporting his wife. Kristy was devastated too, but she still didn't leave him.

Even after that, my parents kept asking her to come home. But now Kristy had a new excuse — she couldn't abandon her husband "during such a difficult time." It was difficult for everyone, but only her husband used it as an excuse to drink himself unconscious.

"You don't understand, he's an artist. He feels things more deeply," she'd say.

I think by then it wasn't even love anymore. It was some kind of addiction to being near him and playing the martyr. Look at her suffering! So self-sacrificing! Pity her!

That's when I stopped talking to her completely. She was dead to me. But my parents kept trying to pull her out of that nightmare. And instead of finally divorcing, at thirty-three, she got pregnant by him again.

Thankfully, this baby is healthy. At least that's what Mom tells me. I still don't talk to Kristy — the thought disgusts me. And after what she pulled recently, I never want to see her again.

Last year, we lost Dad. Heart attack. They couldn't save him. Then Mom's health collapsed. She was never strong, and the stress pushed her over the edge. She's still very sick, had to quit her job, living on Social Security now. I stop by every day after work to check on her.

And NOW Kristy sees the light! She finally decides to leave her husband. But since she has a toddler and won't see a dime in child support, she needs help.

"I can't do this anymore," she sobbed in Mom's kitchen. "My son is growing up watching his father drink. He doesn't care about us. I need help."

Mom said nothing. But I couldn't keep quiet. I reminded her that for fifteen years, help was offered on a silver platter, and she spit on it. Fifteen years running after her worthless husband, ignoring everyone. In fifteen years, shouldn't her brain have developed enough to see what she'd gotten herself into? But no. The light bulb only went on now.

Now! When Dad is gone. When Mom needs help herself — partly, by the way, because of Kristy's nonsense. Now she wants someone to fix the problems she spent fifteen years creating? Yeah, right. We'll get right on that.

"If you don't help me, you'll never see your grandson again," Kristy said to Mom.

Before I could react, she ran out the door. Honestly, if I'd caught her, she would have counted every stair with her face. How dare she say that to our mother!

I spent the whole evening and night with Mom. Her heart started acting up, we had to call 911, and then I sat with her. She needs rest, but she just cried and cried. I barely got her to sleep.

I feel sorry for my nephew. I feel sorry for Mom. But not for Kristy. She made her choices, and now her child and our mother will pay the price. I have no idea how to help them. Especially Mom — she's going to worry herself sick over that... woman, and for her, stress could be fatal.

I don't want Kristy anywhere near me right now. Because I honestly don't know if I can stop myself from doing something I'd regret.