One hour, every other weekend. 

A total of two hours every month and 24 hours out of the year; one full day in a whole year. That was how much I saw my older sister and brother growing up.

My nights were usually spent crying in my mom’s arms, screaming that I missed my sister. The worst part, for both of us, was that my mom knew there was nothing she could say to make the hurting stop, and there was nothing she could do to change it. 

My days at school were spent talking to my friends. They would tell me how they played or argued with their siblings over the weekend. I compared myself to them and wondered why I didn’t get to have the same experiences with my siblings; I wondered why I couldn’t have a normal sibling relationship like everyone else.

Holidays were lonely, too. I got to see them every other Christmas, every other Thanksgiving and every other birthday. The years that they weren’t with us, our family felt incomplete. 

My siblings and I have different dads. I never considered them “half” siblings; I always knew them as my siblings, and nothing less. However, the split custody agreement split our family in half. 

As we grew older, the separation only grew worse. My sister was off to college, then getting married and having two kids while my brother moved hours away with his girlfriend. 

I was left alone.

I didn’t have an older sister to have late night talks and sleepovers with. I didn’t have an older brother to wipe my tears away when a boy broke my heart. I didn’t have an older sibling to look up to — I didn’t have a role model. I was left to navigate life by myself.

I didn’t know what to do once I entered high school. I desperately tried to figure out a career path or a college to attend, knowing I didn’t have an older sibling who experienced it all to guide me. Many of my friends told me they were going into their career because their sister did it or attending a college because their brother went there; I listened, knowing I didn’t have that. 

Once again, I was left to wonder why our relationship wasn’t normal.

Despite the fact that I wasn’t an only child at heart, I was raised like one. It was hard to navigate life alone, but I had done it all my life. My mother always told me that I was mature for my age because I was so independent. I knew that I was, but it still hurt to hear because I knew I didn’t have to be; my siblings should have been there for me.

I knew I couldn’t rely on others. If I wanted to make a life for myself, I was going to have to do it on my own. 

I researched colleges by myself and decided to attend Texas Woman’s University. I explored career paths on my own and ultimately decided to pursue nursing. Meanwhile, my sister pursued teaching at Sam Houston University, but is now a stay-at-home mom, and my brother didn’t go to college and is hopping from job to job.

Part of me is glad that I didn’t follow in their footsteps because we grew up with drastically different lives leading us down separate roads; however, the other part of me wonders where I would’ve ended up if I had grown up having a normal relationship with my siblings.

I know I can’t spend the rest of my life wondering what could or should have happened; instead, I will keep navigating life and growing on my own.