Mariah Carey did not talk to her sister, Alison, before she died. The reason? Alison’s struggle with drug addiction created a big distance between the two sisters.
Sources close to the family shared with TMZ that Mariah did not reach out to Alison in her final days. Instead, she spent the last week with their mother, Patricia, who was also very ill.
Mariah was not in contact with Alison, and sources say it’s because Alison struggled with addiction for many years. Mariah had tried to help her sister emotionally and financially, but it wasn’t enough to help Alison get clean.
Eventually, Mariah felt she had to show Alison tough love. She didn’t want to enable her sister’s behavior, so she decided to cut off contact and distance herself from Alison.
As we reported, Alison passed away over the weekend—the same day their mother died—without any contact from Mariah.
Mariah talked about her relationships with her mom and sister in her 2020 memoir, *The Meaning of Mariah Carey*. In the book, she claimed that Alison had once “drugged me with Valium, offered me a pinky nail full of cocaine, inflicted me with third-degree burns, and tried to sell me out to a pimp.”
I Decided to Teach My Stepson a Lesson When I Got Tired of Him Littering Everywhere
A couple of weeks ago, I finally moved in with my husband, which was supposed to be the beginning of a wonderful chapter in our lives. I had no idea that my husband’s 15-year-old son from a previous marriage, named Dave, would prove to be a difficult obstacle to overcome. Though I knew there would be some period of adaptation, I did not expect such an attitude towards my efforts to make the house our cozy place in the form of piles of garbage that Dave, as if on purpose, left scattered throughout the house.
At first, I thought it was a temporary situation, perhaps a teenager’s version of chaos. But days turned into weeks, and the mess only seemed to grow. Empty chip bags, crumpled papers, and discarded clothes adorned every corner of our once-pristine home. It was as if a tornado of teenage negligence had swept through, leaving behind a debris field that would shock even a loving mother.
My comments and requests for cleanliness had no effect on him at all. It was like talking to a wall. I wanted to stop this and somehow decided to act outside the box.
One day, when Dave left for school, I came up with a plan. I was going to defeat this trash invasion, which required a strategy that went beyond mere words. Wandering around the house, armed with trash bags and determination, I picked up every piece of clutter that had settled into our home. I was on a mission to teach Dave a lesson in responsibility.
His room, the center of chaos, was my first target. When I walked in, I was greeted by clothes strewn across the floor, a maze of crumpled papers, and a collection of half-empty soda cans. Without pleasure, but with a feeling of determination, I began to put all the items that were scattered in garbage bags. Papers, cans, his clothes, everything was packed into the bags together. In the end, the room gradually turned from a disaster zone into something resembling order. I packed all the scattered clothes with other trash in a bags.
A similar fate befell the living room, kitchen, and even the bathroom. It was a time-consuming task, but I was sure that if words could not reach him, perhaps these bags would show him how much of a mess he left behind.
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