Daughters Find Out Who Really Was the Favorite Child. But What They Find Out is Gold.

Have you ever known who your parents favored more? You or your siblings? Some parents will never tell you who they favored, but you’ll... Daughters Find Out Who Really Was the Favorite Child. But What They Find Out is Gold.

Have you ever known who your parents favored more? You or your siblings? Some parents will never tell you who they favored, but you’ll be glad to know that most parents have this “magic” where they make all siblings feel that they are the favored child.


For weeks, both our mother and our brother had been near death with cancer.

Mom and her dying son were inseparable, whether at home or as patients in the same hospital. None of us siblings resented that she turned to him so much during those final days. On a cold day in November, her four remaining sons carried her to his funeral, certain that they were fulfilling her last wish.

The long night that followed was both a horror and a blessing. My oldest sister, Marie, and I stayed with Mom in our childhood home. No matter what we did, Mom wept with grief and writhed with pain. Her cries mingled with the sounds of the icy rain blown against the windows of the old farmhouse, first in gusts, then in brief intermissions of heavy calm. Finally, around three o’clock in the morning, after telling us repeatedly that she would not see another dawn, she closed her eyes. An eerie silence settled over the house, as if death were very close to us again.

When Marie and I saw that she was not dead but was resting peacefully, we knew we should rest too. But we couldn’t sleep and started to talk.

Marie was the second child; I was the ninth and last. The two of us had never even lived in the same house, as she already had her own home when I was born. We looked and acted like members of the same clan, but we had never talked real “soul talk.” In the dim light of the room adjoining Mom’s, she and I whispered stories about our family.

Seeing my mother near death, I felt like a little girl again.

I told Marie how I remembered so often the special solace of Mom’s lap. That was my retreat when I sought comfort for aching ears, or refuge from warring siblings, or just the closeness of her hug. To me she was always wonderfully soft and warm.


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