Well orphans can have siblings, right! They just don't have parents. A large part of my memoir involves children I grew up with who were not orphans, but whose parents ignored them quite a bit (and many of these were the chidren of upper class professionals). I remember thinking I would be thinner if I didn't have a mother serving large meals, and that I would be braver if I didn't have a father who made me wear a crash helmet when I went ice skating (I gave it up not long thereafter.) Not being nagged about doing my homework and reading for extra credit. Not being watched all the time and either bragged about or criticized. I suppose a lot of these feelings lasted for my entire life. My mother died when I was 60 and I mostly felt liberated, which sounds wicked. (My father died when I was 14 and I felt liberated in a different way.) I feel guilty when I hear people talk about grieving the loss of a parent. For me it has been all about my partner Betty. All the love I didn't feel for my parents (and didn't give to children because I didn't have any) I gave to her. I don't have siblings.