When I was a kid, my biological father married a woman with two daughters. This marriage seemed to prompt my father to want to spend time with me, but instead I spent many weekends playing with these girls while my father was off doing who knows what until he stumbled back home with beer on his breath.
These girls - Sandra and Mari - became two of my best friends. Sandra was closer to my age so we played together more than Mari. (And, one time, Mari touched my food with her dirty hands, and I never forgave her - so there was that.) Eventually, my father's marriage fell apart, and I was no longer allowed to spend time with these two girls. I rarely saw my father anymore, and I was back to not having "sisters." My mother would not allow me to greet my father's ex-wife when we saw her in public, so I ended up having to avoid them all for fear I might get in trouble. I ultimately moved on and didn't think about them anymore.
Until today.
Today I found out that Sandra died of cancer. It's strange to think of her as a woman, wife, and mother. But she was all those things before that horrible illness took her away.
Perhaps if marriage and divorce were not so complex, I might have been able to keep in touch with her. Parents need to put their selfishness aside and consider what their hatred and spite does to the children that are affected by the constant bickering and divorce.
My adopted sister for a short time, Sandra was a light in an otherwise dark time in my childhood. I'm sure she shared that light with those she loved and those who loved her. I'll try to remember her as that little girl that made the weekends with my father more bearable.
Ring-a-round the rosie,
A pocket full of posies,
Ashes! Ashes!
We all fall down.
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