This blog is an updated version of the original published April 13, 2023. Additions for the updated version are in italics.
When National Siblings Day rolls around, my heart strings get pulled a bit. I always wonder how “only children” feel — the ones who grow up without compatriots to share childhood escapades and inside jokes. It’s part of why I had Molly. I wanted Gracie to have someone to share Santa and school, toys and movies, friends and experiences. I pictured them at each other’s graduations and weddings. All of it. I used to say, when breaking up their fights, that they must always hold love and respect for one another — because one day, they will be each other’s longest and oldest friend.
Family and distance
I think often about only children now. Though Gracie wasn’t technically made an only child when Molly died, in her day-to-day life, that’s what she became. Her three half-siblings — the youngest fourteen years older — were never woven into her daily rhythm. They were more like cousins we saw on holidays, at birthdays and family gatherings.
And then there’s me and my sisters.
I grew up with Johanna. Seven years younger, she was my baby. I used to pull her from her crib to sleep beside me, to my mother’s horror. When I left for college, she suffered that loss. She felt the absence of guidance, and I never really came back home in any permanent way. She had to learn to navigate a complicated world alone — one she didn’t yet know was complicated.
I have two other sisters, too. My biological father wasn’t the man who raised me. I learned of Martha when I was thirteen but was told to keep my lineage secret, so we didn’t meet then. Martha is only a few years younger than my mother. When my youngest sister, Eleanor, was born, my bio-dad finally told the truth. At our first meeting, I showed Martha a picture of Jonathan. It was new to her — all of it — a lot to take in.
I’ve built strong, loving relationships with both of them. They came when Molly died. They came when Jack arrived. Eleanor stayed with us when she visited recently. She spent Gracie’s 21st birthday with her at Epcot. My hope is that she and Gracie will grow closer as time goes on. They share something rare — both are only children in practice, with siblings who exist at a distance. They are only children with distant siblings.
Johanna and I are close. She’s my sidekick. We’ve raced together, shared weekends, shared a home for a while. She’s the best Auntie there is — adored by Gracie and Jack. Molly loved her too.
Martha and I connect in quiet ways. We’re both writers, both family-oriented, both drawn to introspection. There’s distance, and I respect it. She lived most of her life without me. I’m invited to family events but not always family gatherings, and that’s okay. It’s not my place to be resentful. I love her.
I had a long friendship with Hannah, Eleanor’s mother, and our dad, Tom, brought Eleanor to visit often. Molly, Gracie, Kenny, and I went there too. She came here for Christmas, for summers. Now that our dad is gone, we stay connected as best we can. I take comfort in knowing she and Gracie will have each other — a bond, a kind of sisterhood beyond blood ties.
Gracie also has Caity, her older half-sister on Kenny’s side, but there’s little day-to-day connection. Caity and I aren’t on consistent terms. Gracie stays out of it — she refuses to take sides. Maybe when I’m gone, things will soften between them.
The strength of chosen sisters
Family dynamics are strange and layered. We’re taught to love and accept our families no matter what because “family comes first.” Sometimes that’s true. But acceptance of isolation, manipulation, or ridicule is never okay. The older I get, the more I believe in found family — those we meet who become our real companions, our chosen roots.
I have several chosen sisters. Not because my three sisters aren’t wonderful, but because life has led me down roads that required sisterhood beyond blood ties.
When I first wrote this, I was still in relationships with Polly and Taylor. Let be clear, these two women both possess terrific qualities.I believe all of us are varying parts good and bad, kind and mean. My discontinuance if communication with Taylor just over a year after I wrote this, and Polly five months later did not come because either one of them are “bad people”. They come from a profound manipulation of the reality of our friendships and complete lack of respect around boundaries.
What I wrote about Polly and Taylor remains true in my memories. The rest is tricky.
I have (had) Polly.
We’ve known each other longer than memory can stretch. We’ve answered middle-of-the-night calls, shared sobriety and relapse, sickness and recovery, loss and laughter. We shared faith. She was once my anchor in a stormy sea.
While all of what I wrote rings true, my friendship turned out to be very one-sided when it came to expectations. I am not perfect at all and I am sure I can be hard to deal with, but when I think of what I was expected to accept in the friendship, and what I was not allowed to expect from her, I am saddened and angered.
People love me when I give them money, I often say, and money comes in many forms including service, times, space holding and acceptance. When these actions are not returned it can be exhausting. I did not end the friendship, Polly did. She still communicates with Kenny but left Jack when she left me. She has ended our friendship before and at some point I retrieve it. I do not see that happening this time.
Third time’s a charm. For now, I pray and reflect on the good in my past with Polly.
I have Lisa.
My fierce CrossFit buddy, who understands the universe the way I do. She only knows this version of me — no sadness for the past Barb. I can tell her anything. She listens without judgment. She’s an empath, a healer, unfiltered and unapologetic. She’s my strength companion.
Lisa has remained my strength companion. She is able to see the duplicity of life and can often guide me through tricky times. We treat one another the same and expect from one another the same. We have balance.
I have Pam.
We met through running, became friends through change. When the gym emptied, we stayed. We’re the “old ladies” now. She’s blunt, funny, grounded — one of those friendships that feel like sisters. We run, talk, slow down, laugh, and always come back to truth.
Pam remains my keep it real person. Like Lisa she does not expect anything from me that she is not willing to give. We agree and we disagree and we remain respectful and kind to one another. We own our actions and words. There is no blame.
And then there was Taylor.
We bonded over child loss, then over physical recovery, motherhood, and faith. Her flower shop was a refuge for Jack — he’d touch the dirt, smell the leaves, feel the peace. She checks in on me when I need it most. She is my spirit guide.
This friendship end was unexpected and sharp. It followed a kitchen renovation that took almost a year and went over the budget by roughly $70,000. This friendship end came about from what I now see is a form of gaslighting. We did most of our conversations via text. We would converse on text and mid-way through the conversation she would switch to Facebook Messenger. I would stop responding to her (her accusation) because I was no longer receiving messages. Hours later I would notice the change of and call her out. The response was typically crickets.
It was when she began ghosting me late in the kitchen completion and I asked why, that she sent me a nasty meme. One of those memes that would take some time to create. It was full of intention. I shared it with my therapist who took no time in guiding me through a “thank-you and goodbye” letter. Her actions ended it on her end, and I told her goodbye. Hindsight shows me several red flags, the major one being my desperation when she was upset with me and how I would panic until all was well again. It reminds me of how I felt at times with Roy.
I am tentative now (even more so NOW) when it comes to making friends. I am too easily drawn in and manipulated. I can be the poster child for the song from “The Music Man” called “There is a sucker born every minute”. I am learning. I am moving slowly now in my social connections. I watch more with my ears now and listen with my eyes. I plant my feet firmly in the soil of love and feel where my branches grow. I look for truth in the stillness and leave space to wonder.
What sisterhood beyond blood ties really means
This is what sisterhood beyond blood ties looks like — messy, beautiful, hard-earned. It’s the life of a woman learning how to love without losing herself.
Whose sister am I? And now, I also ask — who are my friends?
2 Responses
I love how you think as well Molly!! One tiny step at a time is all I got sometimes!
Always LOVE your self reflection, Barb! 💕 With 2 littles at home, I find friendships so hard these days. Hard to maintain, give time and energy to, and costly. Setting up a babysitter so I can have an afternoon with friends is expensive. When did we decide that babysitting 2 kids cost more than watching 1. LOL. Anyway, I just keep trying to put one foot in front of the other and enjoy what I can.