I’m curious,” Rachael Benjamin began delicately at the outset of our first sibling therapy session in January, “what you wish ...

This post is Part 1 of a series. Part 2 can be found here. The Phone Call It was during my summer break that I remember the phone ringing in the morning. I watched my parents rush out of the house to ...

The day my brother died, the dogwoods were in bloom. I sat by my bedroom windowsill, painting my nails. Junior prom was just hours away. I was 16. My brother, Alex, was 18—just 22 months older than me ...

For many teens, a sibling is the person who sleeps across the hall, has a similar nose, and steals their favorite hoodies. And while all these are true for me, 21, and my brother, 24, I can also say ...

Only Slate Plus members can gift Slate stories. Become a member to share 10 free articles a month. It began with a phone call. When the pandemic hit, my brother, George, was living in Henderson, ...