Blended Family Faux Pas

During my early teens I thought my brother Walt was kind of a jerk. I knew he was an excellent dad, a loyal husband, an active neighbor, a good son and brother--for the most part. But two things happened between Walt and me during my super-sensitive early teens that took me many years to get over.

The first offense was pretty mild. Much more mild than the case of cystic acne on my face at the time. Whenever he'd show up at some family event, because it was evidently his big-brotherly obligation, as soon as he'd see me, whether or not he was across the room and had to shout it, he'd yell, "Hey Syd, want me to pop that zit for you?!" I'd bow my head to hide my face and wish he'd leave me alone.

He'd work his way through the crowd, telling jokes and stories about his latest artistic endeavor. Then he'd get to me and punch me on the arm and tell me to smile.

I know now that he didn't mean to hurt me. Walt was just a big twenty-something second grade boy pulling my pigtails. But at the time, already mortified by my physical appearance, any mention of it made me wish I was a turtle who could climb into her shell.

I took the second offense much more to heart. Until recently when I found out I had unwittingly committed a similar offense of an even grander nature. Walt and Adrienne's daughter Lily was born first thing in the morning. As soon as we got their call, Mom and I were in the car heading north on I29. We hung out in the waiting room for awhile until Walt, wearing hospital scrubs with a mask pulled down from his mouth so he could speak to us, carried baby Lily, all pink and bundled, in his arms for us to meet her. I gasped. My niece was so beautiful. I was so proud of her.

Just then a couple of Walt and Adrienne's best friends arrived and immediately walked over to oooh and aaah over the baby. They looked vaguely familiar, but it had probably been about eight years since I had last seen them. Walt made introductions, "Hey Mike and Jill, this is my mom Joanne." They shook hands and mentioned that it had been too long. Then Walt pointed to me and said, "Oh, and Mike, Jill, this is my little half-sister Sydney."

They both lifted their eyebrows and said, "Oh?" As if they had never heard of me. Half-sister? I knew I was Walt's half-sister because we had the same mom but different dads, but no one in the family ever used that term. I didn't like to think of myself as only being a half sibling because it made me feel like I wasn't wholly a part of their inner circle. But because I only lived with Walt for five years before he left for college and he had nearly thirteen years worth of experiences before I joined the family, and the obvious biological fact that I did indeed have a different dad than he did made Walt's statement completely accurate. But I felt like an outsider, watching the story of my family but not fully participating in it.

Until I accidentally snubbed my sister Cally in a similar way. Hazel's son Jordan married his high school sweatheart recently. They had a beautiful wedding ceremony and reception. My Stella was even the flower girl. It was the first big family event after Murray's death where we could all be together--Walt, Mom, Marty, Hazel, me and our husbands, wives and kids.

The next day I posted pictures on Facebook of the wonderful celebration. My sister Cally, my dad's daughter from his first marriage to Sally before he married my mom, commented on them - how beautiful, how fun, congrats. I had warm feelings seeing my sister from my dad's side of the family make comments on my siblings from my mom's side of the family. It felt good to bring everyone together, even if it was electronically.

But then Cally messaged me. In the last few years we've all become close by keeping contact via Facebook and email. Cally attended a fundraiser Walt had put together for local musicians last summer. She attended Marty's birthday bash. She cleaned out Murray's house, had an estate sale and gave all the money raised to Cheryl's daughter. Just because I never lived with Cally since her mother had full custody after our dad and she divorced when she was twelve, she's still as much of my sister as my mom's kids are. Just because I don't get along with my father and have chosen to mostly ignore him doesn't mean I should project my feelings for our dad onto Cally. Just because I choose to ignore my dad to keep the peace with him doesn't mean I should ignore his daughter, my sister. In the message Cally mentioned that it looked like the wedding was a wonderful time, but that she was sad I had not invited her.

I was sad too because I know how it feels to be an outsider within your own family. All I could say was I was sorry and I hope Cally forgives my absent-minded sleight. It's certainly helped me let go of the grudge I felt against Walt for committing a much lesser blended family faux pas.

All I know is that we screw up sometimes and we just have to keep loving and forgiving each other.