I've lost some very important people through out my life, including siblings. Although these siblings were not lost by death, nor were they blood related, the feeling I have when I think about how I've lost them is just the same.
Back when I was a child (about 7, I want to say) my father remarried, making our little family on his side grow larger. The women he married had two children, both boys. One was my age, the other was four years older. All three of us bonded instantly, like we'd grown up together since the day we were born. Unfortunately, down the line of years, our family began to struggle. My father and step mother would constantly fight, always pulling us children into the middle of it. My two brothers and I had to carry the weight of their painful, bitter words towards each other on our shoulders. Sometimes my brothers, being the boys they were, would get into trouble and would be "punished" in the way "the Bible said was right and acceptable." I'm not sure if anyone knows exactly what I'm talking about here, but it hurts me too much for me to put it into words. My step mother was the main instigator to these punishments, but my father went along with it also. Anyways, as soon as their punishment was over, my brothers would be crying (of course, we were just children) and we three would try to comfort one another as best as we could. Fortunately, I never got punished the way they did. The only reason I didn't, though, was because I was absolutely terrified to even move a muscle out of place. I was too scared to get punished like them, so I acted like a perfect little angel. I didn't live with my father, step mother and brothers all the time, and I thank the Lord for that. I did go see them every other weekend, though, and sometimes during the week. The three of us were like best friends. We were always playing together, always having a good time. We'd go on family vacations and have a blast together. Family vacations were always nice, that's basically the only time when my father and step mother didn't fight.
Anyways, the point for my previous rant is that my brothers and I became very, very close from all of the things we had to endure. We were like true brothers and sisters. Even though we were not blood related, that didn't matter. My step mother was a terrible women. To this day I still don't know why she never liked me. She put on a front every time I was around, but when she thought I couldn't hear, she'd point out little things in my father's and her relationship and blame them on me. This eventually tore the family apart, and they divorced. By this time my brothers and I had a younger sister. She was only 3 at the time of the divorce, and we were all teenagers by then. The oldest boy technically considered an adult, but still living with all of us. The divorce hit me with such force that, to this day, I still can't fight back the tears whenever I think about it. After my step mother and brothers moved out, I never got to see my brothers again. I wasn't allowed to, my father forbade it. I missed them more than I can even begin to explain and, in a way, it felt as though they had died. Like they passed on, and I'd never in my life get to see them smile, or hear them laugh again. I'd never get to watch them taunt each other and start silly arguments. I'd never be able to pick someones side to be on, just for fun, whenever those little arguments broke out. I'd never get to learn new things from them, never get to listen to their stories of their other life with their father. (They lived with their father every other weekend also, but mainly lived with their mom and my dad.) I'd never again get to play fight or be the referee in their play fights. I'd never get to be there for them again. I'd never get to see their faces, or even how the rest of their life would turn out. I wanted to see them grow old. I wanted to see them get married, I wanted to see their children. Over the years we had grown up together, we had become so close. We all stuck together when the times between my father and step mother were rough. We were the only ones who could truly understand just how the other one felt. After all, we were all going through it together. Carrying the weight of hatred on our shoulders for our parents. Getting the blame stapled to our foreheads for their failing marriage. We were connected in that way, we were sewn together by this understanding and pain. I counted those two as my REAL brothers, I didn't think of them as being from different parents. To have people that mean so much to me ripped out of my life at such an abrupt pace tore a huge hole in my soul. I truly loved those boys with all my heart, and I miss them more than words could possibly describe. I'd give anything to have my brothers back, or at least to know what's gone on in their life since they've left. Or even to have a friendship with them, and be involved in their life again. Losing the only siblings I had (besides my sister, of course, the sister that came out of that marriage) made a much bigger impact on my life than I ever dreamed it would have. It feels like I've lost a part of me. I just wish parents would think about someone other than themselves for once. That someone being their children. Children are very fragile and delicate. They're broken very easily, just as I was.