My Sister Hates Me Because I'm the, "Funny One"

I have two sisters; one is older than me, and one is younger than me.  I've told my older sister (Sis #1) that she shouldn't hate me because I am the, "funny one."  She should hate me because I am the pretty one with big boobs.  Everyone who knows my family knows that Sis #2 (the younger sister) is the sweet one.  She gets that from our mom who is one of the most loved people I will ever meet.  Sis #2 is kind and nurturing.  She is a great mom, supportive wife, loving friend, and rarely gets stressed or frazzled with life's bullshit.  Sis #1 and myself are some strange hybrid of our mom and dad.  With all the saintly sweetness that comes from our mom, the other half of our chromosomes is pure hell raiser, stubborn, smart ass DNA from our father.  My dad (who passed away nearly 23 years ago) was also one of the most loved people I will ever meet, but that is a fact I will never be able to explain.  Dad was born in West Virginia, raised by a single mom after his own father walked out on them.  He left home as soon as he graduated high school, got a degree and taught electronics, but decided that his true calling was law enforcement.  He was a cop for 20 years until cancer took him.  He was a strict, non-compromising, iron-fisted dictator most days who actually scared our boyfriends by cleaning his gun when they came to pick up his daughters for dates.  I do not think Sis #1 would even try to deny that out of all the siblings, she is the most like our father.

Most people feared and respected my father, and there were very few who got to see the crazy, funny side that he possessed.  Here is an example:  Dad worked night shift.  Mom was hosting her card club one evening and dad said good night to the ladies as he was leaving for work.  Before he goes, he turns on the lights and sirens of his squad car while still parked in the driveway.  Over the PA system he says, "We have the house surrounded.  Come out with your hands up and your pants down."  Of course, the hysterical laughter from my mother's friends (most of whom we would see in church every Sunday) lasted well after he had driven away to go to roll call. 

What I love the most about Sis #2, is that we all know exactly what she is going to be like when she gets old.  All we have to do is look at our mom, because Sis #2 is just like her.  What I love most about Sis #1, is that she is my only glimpse of what my dad might have been like if he would have had the chance to grow old.  I wonder if she will get her gun out to be cleaned when her daughter has her first date.  I want to see how she acts when her kids get married.  I want to see her face when her first grandchild is born.  I want to see her dance with her husband at their 25th, 30th, and 50th wedding anniversaries because I never got to see my dad experience those things.  I get to see him through her, and I hope she knows how amazing it is for all of us to get to watch.

Love you, Sis #1.