“Judy seems cold and unfeeling.”

I didn’t understand before Ruth died that I was often angry and jealous as well as sad and frightened——angry because her illness often got in the way of some special event in which I was involved. At those times, I wanted my parents’ undivided attention. Instead, her needs took precedence.

Ruth often got more attention than I did from some relatives when they greeted us. They’d hug her and cuddle her; I remained on the sideline. I knew my parents loved both of us, but it was invariably Ruth who always ended up in Dad’s lap. Once I heard a relative comment, “Judy seems cold and unfeeling.” These words stung deeply, but I didn’t let my feelings show.

Shared Lots of Good Times

. . . .Ruth and I had shared lots of good times together. I’d buried those memories because it hurt so much to remember.

We’d been buddies and allies. We sided with each other, especially if either of us disagreed with something our parents did or said. . . .

Ruth and I danced in the rain outside the Crandon Motor Court in Key Biscayne, Florida, played with the family dog in the back yard, and squeezed into the same miniature fire truck at an amusement part ride——though all the other fire engines were empty. Often we played “wedding,” using one of our mom’s robes as the bridal gown, and put on a number of original theatrical productions starring the two of us.

When Ruth wasn’t being rushed to the hospital because she was coughing up blood, spiking a high temperature, or needing an emergency transfusion, she was like any other kid her age. She was a good student, though she often missed school. She was lots of fun and had lots of friends.