It was the Ultimate Betrayal.

More than fifty years later, I still remember what happened immediately after my sister died. She was critically ill in the hospital, and my parents and I had been maintaining a
vigil. . . . My parents rarely left her room, and I hung out in the waiting room down the hall.

My parents’ good friend Abe stuck his head in the waiting room doorway. “Wanna go down to the cafeteria to get an ice cream soda?”

As we sipped our sodas, he made small talk. When we were finished, we went back upstairs. My father was standing outside my sister’s room, tears streaming down his face. My mother was inside.

“She’s gone,” he said.

I felt numb with shock and disbelief. My parents——knowing that Ruth was about to die——had sent me away to protect me, but I couldn’t forgive them. My mother and father had shared with Ruth her last moment of life and left me out. It was the ultimate betrayal.