When my mom died, I helped my dad take care of my sisters. I found the balance between being a sister and a maternal figure.

• My mom died of cancer in 2019 while I was in college in Canada. 
• After that, I decided to help raise my two little sisters, who were 3 and 11 at the time. 
• After two years, I decided to move out and restart my life. 

I have always been a very involved big sister, but when my mom died, that role grew even more and left me confused about how to balance sisterly and maternal love.

In 2019, I canceled all my summer plans to be close to my mother and support our family through her cancer diagnosis. I decided to move to New York from a university in Toronto to help her heal and reach remission. Instead of moving home to help my mother live, I moved home to help my family through collective grief after her death, most importantly, I moved home to help my stepfather — who I've now accepted as a full parent — raise my little sisters, who were 11 and 3 at the time.

I left behind my carefree university life and dove straight into one filled with kids and full-time work. 

I tried my best to be there for my sisters

I put a lot of pressure on myself to be the best I could be for my little sisters. While struggling through my own grief, sinking into unhealthy coping mechanisms, and working full time, I pushed myself to be as present and helpful as possible. Making lunch boxes, doing bath times and bedtimes, and helping with homework all became part of daily life. 

During the pandemic, my family and I were locked together in our shared grief — a blessing and a curse. My room became my second sister's playroom. She'd sit on my lap during Zoom meetings; she'd ask if I needed anything, she'd even grab the blanket from the back of my chair, put it over my shoulders, and say, "There you go Iman, all nice and cozy." My other sister would express her grievances toward our shared dad when he was "annoying." We'd do spa nights together, and I'd host makeshift sleepovers with both of them in my room. 

At times, it became hard for my father and me as I would get involved with his parenting. I was doing my best to help, but would sometimes overstep, and he was having a hard time opening up to me and accepting my help. 

My dad wanted the best for me too 

After two years after living with my family after my mother's death, I decided to move out.

One night at dinner, I brought it up, saying, "I think I'll move out at the end of the summer." My father responded saying, "At the end of the summer? No, you should move out now. You don't want to bother me coming home at 4 a.m."

My initial thought was that he didn't want me around anymore. With further conversation and reflection, I realized that he wanted the best for me. When he didn't want me overhelping or when he didn't share everything he was feeling, he was trying to protect me. This conversation marked the greatest gift of all, even though I was hesitant to leave out of guilt, he wanted me to live my life. So, I did. 

I moved out in May 2021. I moved into an apartment with one of my closest friends in Greenpoint, in Brooklyn. Thanks to my father, I was back on track to living the life of a classic young adult.

When I moved out, my youngest sister, 5, said "I'm going to miss you so much," to which I responded, "I'm going to miss you too. I'll come see you all the time." Now, I visit them every week, we do sleepovers at my place and have fun outings in the city. The littlest calls me when she's having a bad day, and the middle one calls me when she needs advice or wants me to sneak her a new pair of jeans our dad doesn't want to get her. 

It turns out that I was right. I am more than just their big sister, but I am not their mother, and I never will be. Realizing that it wasn't my place freed me from my self-imposed pressure and allowed us to bask in the glory that is our mixed relationship.It turns out I was right, I am more than just their big sister, but I am not their mother and never will be. Realizing that it isn't my place freed me from my self-imposed pressure and allowed us to bask in the glory that is our mixed relationship.