Okay, my late sister was the biological child of my stepmother, and adopted at age 6 by my father, though we'd known her since toddlerhood. Totally my sister, I thought. So imagine my surprise when one Christmas, in the cousin gift-swap drawing I was assigned her. But...sister!?! I'm getting her a gift (or three) anyway! "Well," says grandmama, "She's not really..." This was my nice grandma, the one who helps all the kids learn how to bake and never says anything mean about anyone. Flabbergasted, is the phrase, I think. I hadn't considered that anyone in the family looked at things like that.

Is there something weirdly Christie-esque about our adopted siblings both being "late"? Like there was some cosmic (or internal) force deciding that their lives were less valuable because they had been "given up" by a parent — who may not have had any choice, quite literally in the "died" scenario you suggest. I just know I'm still angry that she's not around, and pretty sure that 99.9% of the people she interacted with adored her.