As recalled by Steve Harder

It wasn't until I was fifteen that I finally got to really know my only sister.

Rosebud was ten years older than me, so for most of my younger years we didn't have much in common. When she was entering her teens, I would have been crayoning. When she started being interested in boys, I would have been learning how to ride a bike.

When she left home to go to college, I would have still been in elementary school. Ten years is a big gap when you're young.

So though she was my sister, I can't say we were close. After spending some time at a Christian college in Manitoba, she returned to British Columbia and worked. I'd see her occasionally, but she was on her own. I guess I assumed this was how it would always be.

Then, in late 1968 or early 1969, Rosebud moved back home to 155A Street in Surrey. I wasn't quite sure of the reason and admit it was a little strange having this person I didn't know all that well living with us. I'd gotten used to being almost an only child - my brother Stan is sixteen years older than me and my late brother Al was nineteen years older. So now, suddenly and unexpectedly, I had a sister again. And I didn't quite know what to make of her.

Rosebud had always been popular and had lots of friends. But for this one year, she didn't seem to want to go out much with any of them. It was as though she needed a break from the world and just wanted to spend time with her family. Lucky for me, I was family.

Lifelong friends

By now I was fifteen and the jump to twenty-five didn't seem that large. We discovered we had things to talk about. We could laugh at the same jokes and share stories. For part of one year, we had time for each other. We became more than brother and sister. We became lifelong friends.