Growing up, it was hard looking around and seeing all the perfect lives and families. My friends and classmates had more money, healthy families, no divorced parents, in other words, no skeletons in their closets.

I remember telling a friend or group of about my father being divorced from a previous wife. That was taboo back in the mid 1970′s and even a reason for mockery and teasing. I then decided not to tell my so-called friends about it.

My father being divorced was no secret to me. I even knew I had a sister and a brother, whom my mother didn’t allow me to see. All the while, I saw my friends with their siblings and I wished I had one. So was my life for many years — no brother, no sister, my parents fighting all the time till they finally decided to separate when I was fourteen (1985). In other words, I was, and felt, alone.

At last, when I was fifteen, my father had the courage to introduce me to my sister and my brother. We became fairly close and tried to catch up with all that wretched and wasted time. My family life was complete, or so I thought.

About a year or so later, my mom told me that my father had gotten in trouble with the law, which I remembered well (Christmas 1979), because he had a daughter whom he had failed to give child support. Surprisingly enough, a very short time later, a then-friend stopped me as I was walking somewhere. She then told me that we shared the same father, which explained how my father reacted every time he saw me hanging out with her and didn’t surprise me at all. This new sister is a year and a half older than I and most likely born before my parents met.

My oldest sister and brother (from my father’s first marriage) didn’t know about this other sister. They were fairly surprised, especially my oldest sister who had always been daddy’s little girl.

Now, twenty-six years later, I find out by chance that I’ve got a younger sister who’s seven years younger than I. This means that my father impregnated another woman while married to my mom. As my oldest sister said, this new sister has no fault, which is undeniably true. Now it’s time to get to know her and welcome her. So far we’re getting along well.

I’m still surprised that I’ve got a baby sister (pictured in this post).

I can’t stop feeling more and more disappointed at my father. He’s hurt and practically destroyed the life of everyone he was to love, care for and protect — the women he’s slept with, the children he’s fathered and even his grandchildren. Although the lives of my siblings and mine are far from perfect, we’re not so messed up.