We are a total of eight siblings, and four of us are half-siblings. Growing up, I had always adored my elder siblings. We didn’t spend a lot of time together. But it was a joy to me every time they visited. I was the little sister that was blessed by their attention. I probably didn’t show my appreciation enough, and they probably don’t know — but I loved it when they were with us.
But then I grew up. We all grew up. A series of tragic events happened in our lives. Our fathers, my father whom they called Uncle, and their father whom I never met, got cancer and passed away in the same year. It was a coincidence too cruel to ever be believable. For a while, it felt like we were all in it together. They were there for us. We tried to hold it together. But things got worse over time. For reasons that are still unknown, my oldest sister decided to move on with her life, without us. My second-oldest sister, who lived with us at the time, got a girlfriend and moved out. She always moved out when she had a girlfriend. She always came home when it didn’t work out. But this time, she exited our lives only to never be found again.
She did return a few years ago, after leaving home and everything behind and disappearing for almost a decade. Upon her return, she was no longer who she once was. She became eccentric, loud, confused, and somehow, quite rude, which was never a characteristic of hers. She was always gentle, kind, and soft, although she could be irresponsible and deceptive.
