I never knew I had a sister until the age of 19. An adopted out child of my mother, due to societal pressure, her existence was never talked about until miraculously they found each other when the birth records became public knowledge.
I met her on that other continent where she was brought up and, against all odds, we forged a relationship that lasted. We initially travelled together, kept in contact when I was in her home country, and felt that our relationship was a good one.
When I went back to the country on the other side of the world, she was part of the family unit. Over the next 26 years we kept that relationship going. She was a loving aunt to my daughters, a friend to my husband and a lovely bonus to me.
She already had a sister in her other family and she taught me how sisters interact with each other. I spent time with her, told her my problems, lent her money and looked forward to every time she had the opportunity to see me.
I valued that relationship so much.
This year she did something that she knew would upset me. I think she hoped that I wouldn’t find out. But I did.
If she had asked me about this particular situation, and my views on it, I would have told her that I felt she was betraying me and that I didn’t want her to do it (I had said exactly that, in past cirumstances). She probably would have gone ahead and done it anyway, regardless of how much it hurt me. But at least I would have known and maybe I would have gotten over it.
I wasn’t asked. I only found out by chance. I feel unutterably betrayed. I wrote to her, an angry passionate letter, asking why she did it. No contact in six months.
I keep on expecting my feelings to turn upwards. I keep hoping that they will. I want to forgive my sister, to find an excuse for her, to have her back in my life. What she did would be a dealbreaker with many people. But with every day that passes, it becomes clearer that she isn’t interested in contacting me; that she probably doesn’t think she has done anything wrong.
Six months. No contact at all. I loved being a sister and I loved being her sister. It breaks me that she never felt the same way.