I'm the oldest. My youngest sister is disabled. I was seven when I first sensed how shaken my parents were—though they barely spoke of it. We were entering a world of guilt. The suffering of siblings is real, and it cuts deep. I once saw a magazine cover with the title "When Love Was Missing," and I thought: that's me too. I felt my parents, so consumed with worry for my little sister, had nothing left for me. We never had moments of simple happiness. I want to say this to every parent: Love your disabled child, yes—but not more than your other children. They feel your anguish. They feel your pain. They need to be loved too. Don't ask them to fill the void left by the child who seems most fragile. They are fragile as well—you just can't see it. Forgive me for speaking so plainly. This is a cry from my heart.
- Silvia, 1996