I don't know how to be a sister
For all my life it seemed like getting to this point—actually meeting a biological relative who lives on an entirely different continent—was the hard part. In reality, despite obstacles, it is going to happen in less than a month. With each passing day it doesn't feel more real, rather the opposite.
My sister is less than a year older than me. We have known of each other's existences for a decade, but we have never met. I still cannot fully grasp that I have a sister. Instead, I feel like I am floating by myself in space. As usual.
In some ways I consider my best friend here in my current city to be my sister. I know we will be there for each other for life even though we met less than four years ago. Plus, some of my closest friends who don't even live near me feel like siblings to me at least sometimes. But who am I kidding? It's not the same, or at least I don't think so. I don't think I'm qualified to know one way or the other.
Growing up as an only child, I never needed to share anything. I mean that first in the most literal sense: I never shared a bedroom with anyone. The idea of hand-me-downs didn't fill me with dread like it did for some of my friends growing up because it was fictional to me. But that also means I never shared simple things like nail polish with a sister. Anything I wanted or needed was purchased new for me, and only for me, because my parents were good at fulfilling my material needs but not the emotional ones. My peers always said I should consider myself lucky because I could be spoiled on Christmas morning simply because I had no other siblings to compete with me.
Naturally, sharing of physical and emotional things tend to go together. I didn't have a sister teach me how to do my hair or make-up a certain way because she learned from her mistakes. I didn't have a sister to admire on the school playground. I didn't have a sister who could help me work through the challenges I faced with my parents. I didn't have a sister I could vicariously live through for the many firsts in life like going away to university or entering a real romantic relationship.
Even though I turned out all right despite not having someone fulfill her big-sister duties for me, I still wonder what could have been, barring the fact that our hypothetical coming-of-age together would have depended on me having been kept at a time and place that felt anything but stable.
To be clear, I don't think of only what could have been or can be done for me. Lately, I'm struggling because I just don't know what it means to be a sister. Not only because it is a completely foreign concept to me, but also because my rough relationship with my adoptive parents has left me no choice but to forget any concept of family in my adulthood. Not sure if I ever really grasped it anyway.
My sister insisted it will be new for her, too. And to some degree that makes sense, as she grew up with only our half-brother, without a sister (AKA, me). We are sisters who grew up on completely opposite sides of the globe, and both of us must reckon with that. How do you make up for all those lost years of bonding and shared growth and misery? The answer is you simply cannot.
Lately I've been tormented by questions like the following: How can I be a sister to someone who is a familiar stranger? Am I doing too much or not enough? Am I supposed to treat her differently than I would a friend, and if so, do I even know how? I genuinely cannot tell if I am being too cold toward her.
Already I've had to grapple with this, as my sister has confided in me, sharing that her controlling husband and his toxic family have driven her to move forward with a divorce after she returns from our trip together. She confessed she hadn't planned on telling me, even though I had some bad feelings about her husband based on some things she previously described. I asked if there is anything I can do to help, even if we both know I practically can't do much of anything.
I've also learned that she feels more or less the same degree of loss and even guilt and shame about the circumstances surrounding my adoption, even if I assure her that I don't view them negatively for what was ultimately a difficult decision. And especially not my sister because she was only a baby herself and couldn't have changed anything even if she wanted to. So, I feel a bit shocked that someone would be so hurt by my absence, something kept a secret from her for so long too.
We've started exchanging audio messages, and she was shocked by how well I speak Russian. It's starting to feel like we're real people, and like we could be real people to each other. It's weird to hear someone say they want me to record more audio messages just so that they can hear my voice more often. To be honest, part of me wishes there were more of a language barrier between us. Maybe there would be less potential for emotions that way.
But is it real? Whatever that means, I don't know. Am I looking forward to seeing and spending time with her? Absolutely. Do I know what to expect beyond that? No. I'm trying to not expect anything, although I've now within a span of a few days also come into contact with my birth mother and half-brother. Does part of me feel like I maybe should have never suggested meeting and instead stuck to my original plan of a solo vacation? Yes. Are we supposed to feel like "real" sisters after this? Hell if I know.
I know how to do some things. I know how to practice a foreign language I lost like a second job and how to maximize my credit card points to get myself to the other side of the globe. But I don't know if I will ever know how to be a sister, even if I feel more than ready to meet her.