Explaining Bob

Since I wrote about him in yesterday's blog post, I feel I need to explain Bob. Bob is my brother.  Well, half of him anyway.  The other half does not belong to me.  I was in my mid-forties when I met him and his younger sister Janet at our father's funeral.   He was my 100% whole father, but 0% belonged to me.  Nada.  Zip. Nothing.  But you already know that story, so let's move on.

Bob is a great big brother even though he's three years younger than me.  I don't mean great big as in large (although he does like his fried chicken, gravy-soaked mashed potatoes, and apple pie a la mode).  I mean great as in exceptional, and I regret it took forty-five years, shattered secrets, and a death for us to find each other.

I liked Bob right away.  We were so much alike.  We shared the same interests. We finished each others sentences.  Our humor matched.  Both of us had sons named Jason.  We discovered that we had dated in high school, but we didn't go all the way.   Okay, that's a lie.  I was just testing to see if you were paying attention.  But, we could have.  How would we have known?  Okay, we had the same last name, so never mind.

My father loved Janet best.  At least that's what Bob said.  I wouldn't know.  I wasn't there.  My older sister Judy and I were hidden under layers of my father's lies and secrets.  But you already know that story, so let's move on.

Janet is hard not to love, so I don't...not love her, that is.  Growing up, she had always wanted a sister.  Little did she know that just six miles up the road, she had two.  

HOLD ON JUST ONE HALF-SIBLIN' PICKIN' MINUTE"!

Whole sister Judy was thrilled with the additions to our family, but explaining half-siblings Bob and Janet to half sister Lynnette (Mother's baby girl) proved to be a teeny weeny bit more difficult than I had expected.

RINGA, DING, DING!  RINGA, DING, DING!

"Hi, Sissy."  

"Guess what, Lynnette. I have another sister and brother.  Isn't that great?" 

Click. Buzzzzzzzzzzz.