My half-sister, Callie turns 30 today.
June 23, 2020 I stopped to check in on my Dad just as I had been for the past several years. The kids and I found him in his kitchen on the floor. An ambulance came, a hospital stay, a nursing home.
He was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Dementia in 2017, his syndrome eventually progressed to Lewy body dementia. His illness was related to herbicide poisoning while he was serving in the Vietnam War. He stopped driving in 2017, his cognitive decline was gradual but significant. The hallucinations, expressionless face, muscle rigiditity, shuffled gait and confusion. He could no longer use a cell phone or remote. It was excruciating to watch. He used to be the Dad who would remember everything I said. As his only child, I was probably the most important thing in his life and it felt good to have someone who paid attention. He was a good dude.
My Dad liked to keep everything, it was sort of a problem, but we all have our shit…literally. Over the past several years my husband and I cleaned out his different storage units and houses (my husband is also a good dude). There wasn’t much I kept. One day while my Dad was in the hospital I was feeling sorry for myself and I wanted to do “something”. I felt helpless and wanted to take some kind of action. There was one local storage unit left to tackle and I had been putting it off for a while. He had given me the keys to it a couple years ago. I got to work, I would take 1 hour breaks from sitting with him in the hospital and clear out the space. Out of everything in a 20×10 storage unit I kept one bin. I set it aside because I saw some pictures of my Mom, a photo album from 1969 Vietnam, and some birthday cards I had sent him. A couple days later with kids splashing in the pool, I pulled out the bin and started sifting through. I found a baby picture of a girl that I had never seen. On the back of the picture were the usual stats. Name, weight, date of birth. The unusual part was that my Dad’s name was listed as her father. I looked at the kids in the pool, I remember it seeming like their splashes lingered in the air.
Oh my God, I have a sister! I’ve probably said “I want a sister” 5000 times in my life and now I had one. Isn’t it crazy how life unfolds? 5 years ago I would have never been able to handle this news. I would have been angry, bitter, wronged, ego-shattered, “what do you mean, I’m not your only child!”. But now, in a moment where I am really missing the familial, female connection of my Mother, a new sister is uncovered. This is a gift in the truest form. I was nervous, excited, curious, and grateful. Not a single feeling of anger or shame.
Who else knew? My Mom was gone so I couldn’t ask her. My Dad had very few lucid moments so I probably would never know. My Dad’s immediate family was gone and he probably wouldn’t have told them anyway….
When I eventually told the kids about her, they wanted to know if they would get a sister when they grew up. Nope.
Callie and I have met twice, once last summer at a neighborhood park on the north side of Chicago and the other at my Dad’s memorial service a few months ago. She’s an edgy, music-loving, minimilist, activist. She’s kind, resilient, adventurous, quiet, independent, and compassionate. We are enjoying the patience that a new relationship requires. Covid-19 has impeded the process. I want to hug her more than I’ve ever wanted to hug another human. We are both working on getting vaccinated, and we are both doing our best to be patient with the unfolding of it all. It’s awkward and beautiful to write letters to a stranger you share DNA with. It’s wonderful and weird to text song lyrics wondering if they speak to her in the same they way they speak to you. It’s lovely and vulnerable to share your life with someone who’s been missing. It’s courageous to openly accept newness in a time where people are hiding indoors from a contagious virus. Happy birthday to the sister I never thought I’d have and the one who showed up at just the right time.
mpoweredstate 