In the beginning / Me

The Other Half of Me.

MaryKate and Ashley, Tia and Tamara, Jessica and Elizabeth. (you all remember the last two, right?)

I’m a twin. The other half of me, is my friend, by choice. We’re two people with completely different personalities, completely different lives but even so, we are so close. There’s this indescribable bond, I don’t know how to explain it, maybe its this unexplainable feeling that separates twins from other sibling relationships. You read about twins having the “twin thing”, well, we didn’t really have it but maybe there’s something to it? Sometimes when my sister is hurting, I can sense it, is that the same? The indescribable feeling…

Over the years my sister and I have had our ups and downs. Ask anyone we know, anyone we went to school with, anyone in the area where we grew up, who Amanda and Louise are, and they will tell you, “The Twins”.
We were always in the same class in primary school, the same in high school, until we got to choose our own subjects, then she choose, I think on purpose, completely different subjects from me. (Haha. She was always more creative.)
Even though we had different classes, we still hung out with the same friends at break time.
We pretty much lived in each others pockets.

When I decided to move to the US after high school Amanda was so supportive, we were struggling with my Dad passing away and I needed to get away. She would stay at home with my mum and allow me to pursue my dreams without worrying if my mum would be ok. I can’t imagine how tough that was on her. We still haven’t talked about that time, to this day, but I hope she knows what that meant to me. She allowed me to fly.
When I lived in the US we didn’t see each other much, I came home only a few times. Back then, I had to actually write letters home, technology wasn’t as accessible as it is today, and I was pretty busy, (or lazy) so didn’t stay in touch much.

During the time I was away my sister was able to flourish and grow into the wonderful person she is now. She became much more confident by herself. She went to college, where no-one knew her as the other half of a set, she found her own group of friends who loved her for her.

My sister told me recently that she resented me a little growing up, I was shocked, I didn’t know she did. (I should have known, I didn’t have a job through high school because of basketball, she did. I stole all her clothes that she paid for with the money she worked for. I was confident and loud, my sister wasn’t really.) She was living in my shadow…and I was oblivious.

When I moved back from the US age 23, I didn’t have anything, I was a little lost and in a very strange place, my sister was there for me, personally and financially. She had her life together (ish) and over the next few years or so we grew closer, I got my life together (again, “ish”). Fast forward 7 years, we’re here, where we are now, best friends. I genuinely like the person she is, she has a good heart, she’s a great mother, a successful career woman and a real credit to our family. That’s why she is more than just my sister, she is my friend.

I’m sure most families, sister or twins, go through the same trials and tribulations that we did…some come out the other side stronger in their relationship, some don’t. I love my sister, I don’t know if I’d be the person I am today without her love and support, she kept our family together when it could have fallen apart.
“You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for McG!”

Now, we still don’t agree on EVERYTHING and we still argue occasionally, as all sisters do BUT we always know we aren’t going anywhere without each other. Our journey through this life is together, the way it was in the beginning, back in 1981.

I can’t promise that I won’t steal her clothes anymore though, some things don’t ever change!

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4 thoughts on “The Other Half of Me.

  1. This is very heart-warming to read. I have one brother who doesn’t give a lick about me. You two are blessed, and you did a wonderful job honoring your kind sister in this wonderful post.

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