One of the few consolations I clung to was that my other sister, Sal, and I could sustain each other through the long goodbye. After Abby left, Sal did nearly as much to raise me as did my mother, who so often deflated in the face of my father’s vehemence. As devastated as we both were about Abby, Sal was confronted with another life cataclysm when her 40-year marriage blew up. These days, so long as I don’t bring up Sal and her illness when we visit, Abby seems happy. I am not, I want to say but don’t: I’m a lost little sister wandering the shores of calamity.

Source: Huffington Post January 10, 2024 17:43 UTC