Shadows of Siblinghood: Memories of Donna...
As I sit in the quiet of my room, the memories of my childhood flood back to me. My sister, Donna, was quite a bit older than me, and we didn't have much in common. Yet, in the tapestry of my early years, she was a prominent figure – one I often wish was still around to fill in the missing pieces, especially about my transgender childhood.
One memory stands out vividly, a memory etched into my soul. Donna, in the eighth grade at the time, had received a ring from a boy. Our father had gone ballistic upon discovering she was dating, and I watched in horror as he unleashed his anger, beating her for simply being a teenage girl experiencing the joys and challenges of growing up. That memory has haunted me forever, a painful reminder of the strict and unforgiving world we grew up in.
I had always been shy and withdrawn, a stark contrast to my outgoing and protective big sister. While I clung to the warmth and safety of our mother, starting school was a terrifying ordeal for me. I remember a time when the teacher refused to let me see Donna during school hours. I had a fit, the frustration and fear boiling over as I threw my lunch box at the teacher. It was only when Donna arrived that I became calmer, her presence a soothing balm to my young heart.
As we both grew older, the differences between us became more pronounced. Donna was a smoker, and I had just started smoking, too. We shared a secret, hiding our habit from our parents. One day, as curiosity got the better of me, I discovered where Donna hid her cigarettes. I took half of them and, in a moment of sibling mischief, I told our parents. Donna got into trouble, but she knew that many of her cigarettes were missing. Still, she never said a word to our parents, a silent understanding between us born out of sibling love and camaraderie.
Donna and I seemed to bicker constantly, never really forging that close sisterly bond. Despite the arguments, deep down, I cherished my big sister. She was my protector, my confidante in a world that often felt confusing and hostile.
But Donna passed away before I came to terms with being transgender. As I journeyed through the process of self-discovery and acceptance, there were many memories from my childhood that remained shrouded in confusion and doubt. I wished, more than anything, that my big sister was still here with me. She could have shed some light on those lost memories, those moments I had suppressed and struggled to understand.
In the quiet moments of my life, I often find myself longing for Donna's presence, wishing she could be here to help me piece together the puzzle of my past. Her absence is a void that cannot be filled, a reminder of the complexity of family relationships, and the enduring love that transcends differences and disagreements.
Belle Webb ©2023