What They Don't Know

My younger sister Helen died when I was sixteen. She was twelve then. I don't know how G-d lets someone live only to twelve. Never officially a teenager. Never been kissed. I don't like to talk about it because people feel sorry for me. What most people don't know is my aunt and other older sister Mary drove home from the funeral and were killed in a car accident. My mother still sets the dinner table for them, as if my sisters, or her sister, are coming home. And she forgot my birthday this year, maybe because it hurts her less, reminds her less. Still who forgets to celebrate the living just because of the dead? I lost my sisters. She lost some of her daughters. I'm still here. I wish my life wasn't so hard. I know my parents love me, but it would be nice if they told me so every once in a while. I've never wanted children and cannot imagine this will ever change. Some people, I believe, just don't have that instinct or inclination. I don't think I was always like this, I think being a daughter in my house made me realize I don't want one. Ever.