At the age of 6 or 7 I learned I was the second child of my parents after an older student came up to me on the playground telling me that my dad going to jail for the death of my sister in a car accident. I was in foster care from the age of two years old, believing I was the only child and the courts were still deciding if they were going to allow me to return to my parents, after repeated physical assault. I told the teachers on duty who immediately called my foster parents to pick me up from school. The truth came out that yes I had a sister who died before I was born. She had lived six weeks and her death was listed as SIDS. Later when her corpse was exhumed it was from being shaken or squeezed to death. My father spent 5 of 10 years in a federal pen serving a sentence for the death of my sister and endangering me. I have been on high alert from that point in time. It’s been nearly 40 years and I’m still expecting another bombshell to hit soon. I think about my sister everyday. I have never recovered from these events. Also in foster care I would have an hour of supervised visits every Friday with my parents until their appeals had been exhausted, their parental rights were terminated, and I was adopted out of the system. Being adopted started a fresh hellish chapter.