Siblinghood

In order to show my appreciation for my sister, I have to start somewhere around 1985. That was the year I got married, she was my maid of honor and we officially reconciled. Before that, we spent a lot of time not talking and not getting along.

Truth be told, I was a terrible older sister. Selfish and self-absorbed I was jealous of her. My mom seemed to like her better. ("Paging Doctor Freud to the nursing station, please"). She was (and is) blond, tan, talented, smart and stronger than me - even though she's three years younger. I'll never forget the day she gave me a bloody nose. Sure I deserved it, but man, little sisters are not supposed to beat up big sisters. After that I kind of hated her.

For awhile.

Coming from a somewhat dysfunctional, divorced and unhappily-ever-after family, we couldn't find a level playing field until we both ran away from home and started our "real" lives. Me, close to our childhood home with her hundreds of miles away.

When I look back on my childhood there is only one person on the planet who understands and shares my history. Without explanation, she knows what happened, who did what and why - in as much as we can ever know "why." And I don't mean to imply some deep, dark secret, or that my family is especially awful, they're not. It's just that, as a friend recently reminded me, every family has it's own special flavor of dysfunctionality.  And when you season that with allspice of divorce, the results can be bitter.

My best friend, the one I have known since college, the one who is so close to me she knows what I'm thinking before I do, doesn't have that history. She knows my stories, but she wasn't actually there. And when my parents get old and need help, she will be there to provide support and advice, but she won't be able to actually help with my parents. That job will fall to my sister.

There is something very precious and reassuring to have someone in my life who understands my formative experiences. Someone I can count on to help with our parents, the day they need help.  I say to my girls "this is the only sibling you will ever have - I'm not making any more" (yes, I really do say things like that). "Your sister is the only other person on earth who will understand what it's like to grow up in our family." Of course they give me these blank,"there she goes again" looks and nod their heads without understanding. But one day they will understand. And if we're lucky enough to grow old and frail and to need their help, they will have each other to lean on as they care for The Mister and me. That, for me, is reason enough to justify my decision to have two kids when so many these days are only having one. And you know what? If I'd started earlier in life, I might have even had three. Having gotten so much out of my relationship with my sister, I sometimes wonder what it would be like to have another - or a brother.

My sister is my touchstone, the one I can cry to, bitch at and generally be my most ungenerous, ungracious self without being judged. She knows what happened. She knows who did what. And she knows why.

She gets me.

Comments

[Country Cinderella]

You are very fortunate to have realized the value of your connection with your sister. I have seen other families that are not so fortunate.

[Patty Mitchell]

this is where TypePad lacks. It needs that Vox
[this is good] button.
This is good.

[Lakshmi]

[this is fantastic]

[Cyn]

Nicely said. Without a lot of me-too-ishness, I also just have one sib--a younger, more successful bro.
We too share the knowledge of our truth. My world would have a gaping hole in it without him.