A lovely memory of family rediscovered. I love the picture. There's one thing that struck me: I look at that window your father painted, and I see a man trying so very hard, against all private sorrow, to give something of himself to his family at Christmas. Given what you've written about him, that window is especially moving.
Thank you for this insight, Brooks. I wonder how I never thought of that before, when it seems so obvious now. Impressions of family tend to take shape early and ossify. We see what we have always seen or expect to see. My father was an unsteady, untrustworthy parent given to rages, but he had a good heart and did the best he could, as most parents do.
That window struck me too! And the envelope as well. Two for one…great writing and pictures to make the story come more alive…not that it needed it. Thanks
How many of us are called on to reinterpret our parents (and our childhoods) with knowledge of their own lives that gradually comes to light? Like you, I had a troubled father given to drink and rages, but understanding the root of his anguish makes forgiveness easier.
Sibling estrangement is a generational pattern in my family that my siblings and I will not repeat.
My great-grandfather fled Austria and the Imperial Police. Two subsequent world wars meant he never saw his parents or most of his siblings again before he died in 1956. His one older brother a traveling musician who was already in the US, apparently took little interest in him, aside from using his home as a drop off point to ditch his daughters from time to time.
His son, my grandfather, didn't speak to one of his brothers for around 30 years. The official reason (he gave) was that he thought his brother and wife took some jewelry from my great-grandmother's house after she died, and before everyone else arrived. The real reason was probably jealousy - rooted in perceived parental favoritism - dating back to adolescence.
His son, my uncle died suddenly and horribly last Autumn, child free, never married. He hadn't spoken to my father, the only surviving member of their immediate family, for at least ten years and it had been more off than on for at least a decade before that. No one was quite sure of the reasons, but reading through the meticulous journals he kept - while unsuccessfully trying to find any reference to a will - the answer was there for me, in literal black and white. He was jealous of the relationship my father had with their mother, based on a faith that my uncle did not share. He even pinpointed the moment when their relationship took that turn.
Envy is a nasty little insidious and incredibly destructive thing.
Subsequent generations have pushed the personal rancor of their parents aside. My parents and siblings, and my Austrian cousins and their children, and the children and grandchildren of my grandfather's brothers, including the one to whom he didn't speak, all danced at my wedding.
I wish my great-grandfather, a teenager getting off a ship, entering the US on a passport that wasn't his, being spurned by his brother and mourning the living family he would never see again could have seen it.
What a lot of pain and bitterness your family has transcended. Parental favoritism leaves deep scars. I’ve seen this on my mother’s side of my own family. The un-favored child is burdened with resentment, the favored one with guilt. Thank you for sharing your story of one generation’s loss overcome in subsequent generations.
There was an estrangement between my maternal grandmother and her brother to do with the settlement of their parents' estate. Consequently I never met my great uncle or his descendants as a child. Flash forward to 2024, when I received an e-mail from a woman explaining we were second cousins, and asking me to illuminate the rift. She is the grand daughter of the ostracized uncle. I learned that he died at age 54, after being denied forgiveness by my grandmother. (I remember hearing my mother urging her to reconcile at the time, though I was only 11.) The astonishing thing is that my grandmother lived 50 years more than he did to age 104. I have no proof but I believe that the total rejection by the siblings who claimed he mishandled the estate contributed to his decline in health.
That sounds plausible to me. How could being shunned by your family not have consequences for your health? It’s interesting that your second cousin reached out in search of understanding—a recognizable and (to me) hopeful impulse as I age.
There is emerging science known as "psychoneuroimmunology", the interaction of psychological events with the immune system through the central nervous system, investigating this phenomenon. The co-regulatory impact of family relationships is central to health and well being. In this scenario I believe it's both the rejection and my great-uncle's actual guilt, (which I believe to be the case) that probably took its toll.
Wouldn’t it be great if parents raised their children with this in mind? According to the research on sibling relationships, fraught bonds tend to replicate in the next generation. People who’ve never seen a healthy sibling relationship lack a model to follow when tensions arise, as they inevitably do.
Yes, it would be great, and it also applies to parental relationships to their children as well as siblings to each other. Safe, supportive relationships foster health and the opposite generates illness. There are many other factors but this is central.
It is always interesting to meet people who share our bloodline but who have lived in different places. My grandfather left the Shetland Islands as a teenager to go to sea. He never returned to see his family. I have made several visits and met his sisters and many distant cousins. My mother worshipped her father and saw his qualities in one of my brothers who she adored. My brother was born shortly after my grandfather’s death. Some of our family relationships have their roots in times that we never knew. To see our distant cousins gives us some insight.
What a vivid picture you've drawn of your father, Rona. "His Y plunged, his T flew like a banner." This piece has me thinking about my forebears, gratefully for the most part. Ours is a classic immigration story, survival through stubborn grit and unconditional love that put family first, sometimes to a fault but I guess that's better than the alternative.
My father was the third to the youngest of nine. When he was three, and the youngest was just a few months old, his mother was removed from the home for 'drunken abuse and neglect' and all of the kids were put in state care. The father was serving in WWII at the time, overseas.
It wasn't until I was about six that I met my father's father for the first time. They eventually had a solid relationship, but I never met my father's mother. Rumors were whispered of her having remarried and had more kids.
I was in my late 20's, posting queries on genealogy boards when a cousin responded with "I think my grandma Mildred is your grandma Mildred".
My dad and a handful of his siblings met his half-siblings about the time he turned 50. Mildred had remarried and had five more children (one set of twins in the first set of 9, another set of twins in the second set of 5).
I am still in close contact with the cousin that reached out all of those years ago.
Wow, what a story! From terrible turmoil in the family comes a whole new set of relatives. Not all of these genealogical reconnections end happily but it seems that yours did.
Mostly. Mildred remained an abusive alcoholic to the very end and unfortunately passed that trait to some of her children in both groups.
My dad and every single one of his full siblings were abused and traumatized by their time in state care. He was lucky that he spent the last years of high school in a better situation with his father's parents before he joined the Navy.
Of the 14 children, only three are still alive and in their 80s and 90s.
This piece evokes memories of estrangements over the years that I've not delved into much. My moody father disowning my half-brother, my father's resentment of my mother's family, and even things that have happened with long-time friends that I will never understand. I guess you can't untangle if you are the only one who needs it. I appreciated this line: and the insight within it: "The manic abundance of our Christmas—batch upon batch of cookies, piles of barely affordable presents—was like a shiny bow on a box of regret and loneliness my father couldn’t ." Apprecicated this piece.
Estrangement is more common than many realize and there are many reasons for it which remain unknown. I experienced it in parts of my family too. Some were boundaries that were drawn so a person could survive the circumstances of life in a dysfunctional family. As a therapist now in my 70's, experience has taught me that dysfunction sneaks into relationships and then spreads through stories that change as they are shared through a chain of family stories which permeate generations. For me, I like to use these stories from my family to explain why I am who I am and how they guided and affected my life.
It’s fascinating and sad how truncated, skewed stories get handed down. Letters, if anyone saved them, make it possible for later generations to discern part of what happened. Between my father and Theo, there was never any “You and I are done,” as far as I can tell. They drifted into uneasy silence that hardened. Thank you for sharing your perspective as a therapist and a seasoned human.
Not a scar. A wonderful memory: My uncle, who I adored, had a boat-a good sized boat that had been in the Coast Guard during WW2. For the bicentennial, with family on board, he sailed the boat in the armada going down the Hudson River. It was thrilling.
My mother’s parents didn’t want her to marry my father because he was one-half Native American and from a poor family. Growing up, my sister and I our heard our mother tell this as a story of true and passionate young love thwarted by an older generation’s prejudice. But the older she got, the more our mother yearned for her parents’ approval and embraced their prejudice against Native Americans. So what if she stayed married to our father till she died? In so many ways, her true loyalties lay elsewhere.
What do you do with a story like that? It was a subtle and confusing poison to grow up with.
A lovely memory of family rediscovered. I love the picture. There's one thing that struck me: I look at that window your father painted, and I see a man trying so very hard, against all private sorrow, to give something of himself to his family at Christmas. Given what you've written about him, that window is especially moving.
Thank you for this insight, Brooks. I wonder how I never thought of that before, when it seems so obvious now. Impressions of family tend to take shape early and ossify. We see what we have always seen or expect to see. My father was an unsteady, untrustworthy parent given to rages, but he had a good heart and did the best he could, as most parents do.
That window struck me too! And the envelope as well. Two for one…great writing and pictures to make the story come more alive…not that it needed it. Thanks
How many of us are called on to reinterpret our parents (and our childhoods) with knowledge of their own lives that gradually comes to light? Like you, I had a troubled father given to drink and rages, but understanding the root of his anguish makes forgiveness easier.
Yes. The other thing that helps is seeing the good intentions. Most parents do the very best they can with the emotional resources they have.
Sibling estrangement is a generational pattern in my family that my siblings and I will not repeat.
My great-grandfather fled Austria and the Imperial Police. Two subsequent world wars meant he never saw his parents or most of his siblings again before he died in 1956. His one older brother a traveling musician who was already in the US, apparently took little interest in him, aside from using his home as a drop off point to ditch his daughters from time to time.
His son, my grandfather, didn't speak to one of his brothers for around 30 years. The official reason (he gave) was that he thought his brother and wife took some jewelry from my great-grandmother's house after she died, and before everyone else arrived. The real reason was probably jealousy - rooted in perceived parental favoritism - dating back to adolescence.
His son, my uncle died suddenly and horribly last Autumn, child free, never married. He hadn't spoken to my father, the only surviving member of their immediate family, for at least ten years and it had been more off than on for at least a decade before that. No one was quite sure of the reasons, but reading through the meticulous journals he kept - while unsuccessfully trying to find any reference to a will - the answer was there for me, in literal black and white. He was jealous of the relationship my father had with their mother, based on a faith that my uncle did not share. He even pinpointed the moment when their relationship took that turn.
Envy is a nasty little insidious and incredibly destructive thing.
Subsequent generations have pushed the personal rancor of their parents aside. My parents and siblings, and my Austrian cousins and their children, and the children and grandchildren of my grandfather's brothers, including the one to whom he didn't speak, all danced at my wedding.
I wish my great-grandfather, a teenager getting off a ship, entering the US on a passport that wasn't his, being spurned by his brother and mourning the living family he would never see again could have seen it.
Maybe he did.
What a lot of pain and bitterness your family has transcended. Parental favoritism leaves deep scars. I’ve seen this on my mother’s side of my own family. The un-favored child is burdened with resentment, the favored one with guilt. Thank you for sharing your story of one generation’s loss overcome in subsequent generations.
There was an estrangement between my maternal grandmother and her brother to do with the settlement of their parents' estate. Consequently I never met my great uncle or his descendants as a child. Flash forward to 2024, when I received an e-mail from a woman explaining we were second cousins, and asking me to illuminate the rift. She is the grand daughter of the ostracized uncle. I learned that he died at age 54, after being denied forgiveness by my grandmother. (I remember hearing my mother urging her to reconcile at the time, though I was only 11.) The astonishing thing is that my grandmother lived 50 years more than he did to age 104. I have no proof but I believe that the total rejection by the siblings who claimed he mishandled the estate contributed to his decline in health.
That sounds plausible to me. How could being shunned by your family not have consequences for your health? It’s interesting that your second cousin reached out in search of understanding—a recognizable and (to me) hopeful impulse as I age.
There is emerging science known as "psychoneuroimmunology", the interaction of psychological events with the immune system through the central nervous system, investigating this phenomenon. The co-regulatory impact of family relationships is central to health and well being. In this scenario I believe it's both the rejection and my great-uncle's actual guilt, (which I believe to be the case) that probably took its toll.
It can be enragingly hard to get along with family, but maybe not nearly as hard living without them.
Wouldn’t it be great if parents raised their children with this in mind? According to the research on sibling relationships, fraught bonds tend to replicate in the next generation. People who’ve never seen a healthy sibling relationship lack a model to follow when tensions arise, as they inevitably do.
Yes, it would be great, and it also applies to parental relationships to their children as well as siblings to each other. Safe, supportive relationships foster health and the opposite generates illness. There are many other factors but this is central.
It is always interesting to meet people who share our bloodline but who have lived in different places. My grandfather left the Shetland Islands as a teenager to go to sea. He never returned to see his family. I have made several visits and met his sisters and many distant cousins. My mother worshipped her father and saw his qualities in one of my brothers who she adored. My brother was born shortly after my grandfather’s death. Some of our family relationships have their roots in times that we never knew. To see our distant cousins gives us some insight.
I am lucky to have found these cousins and would love to visit again when crossing the border feels normal.
I probably said it last time, but what a novel the lives of Thomas and Eliza, Max and Theodore (or other sibling) could make. Wonderful essay.
Thank you, Sarah. Too bad I have no gift for making shit up, or patience with intensive research.
Lovely. Sad. True. Sibling estrangement is a painful and very real thing.
Thank you, Laurie. I know you understand.
What a vivid picture you've drawn of your father, Rona. "His Y plunged, his T flew like a banner." This piece has me thinking about my forebears, gratefully for the most part. Ours is a classic immigration story, survival through stubborn grit and unconditional love that put family first, sometimes to a fault but I guess that's better than the alternative.
Thank you, Paula. “Unconditional love, sometimes to a fault” runs in my family too.
Your sister is right! You are a master of the narrative.
She is my biggest fan. Thank you, Jill.
My father was the third to the youngest of nine. When he was three, and the youngest was just a few months old, his mother was removed from the home for 'drunken abuse and neglect' and all of the kids were put in state care. The father was serving in WWII at the time, overseas.
It wasn't until I was about six that I met my father's father for the first time. They eventually had a solid relationship, but I never met my father's mother. Rumors were whispered of her having remarried and had more kids.
I was in my late 20's, posting queries on genealogy boards when a cousin responded with "I think my grandma Mildred is your grandma Mildred".
My dad and a handful of his siblings met his half-siblings about the time he turned 50. Mildred had remarried and had five more children (one set of twins in the first set of 9, another set of twins in the second set of 5).
I am still in close contact with the cousin that reached out all of those years ago.
Wow, what a story! From terrible turmoil in the family comes a whole new set of relatives. Not all of these genealogical reconnections end happily but it seems that yours did.
A happy and unexpected development. Estrangements can often be healed but maybe in a later generation.
Mostly. Mildred remained an abusive alcoholic to the very end and unfortunately passed that trait to some of her children in both groups.
My dad and every single one of his full siblings were abused and traumatized by their time in state care. He was lucky that he spent the last years of high school in a better situation with his father's parents before he joined the Navy.
Of the 14 children, only three are still alive and in their 80s and 90s.
So it often goes with alcoholism in families. A blighting inheritance.
This piece evokes memories of estrangements over the years that I've not delved into much. My moody father disowning my half-brother, my father's resentment of my mother's family, and even things that have happened with long-time friends that I will never understand. I guess you can't untangle if you are the only one who needs it. I appreciated this line: and the insight within it: "The manic abundance of our Christmas—batch upon batch of cookies, piles of barely affordable presents—was like a shiny bow on a box of regret and loneliness my father couldn’t ." Apprecicated this piece.
Thank you, Binnie. How hard some of try to conceal our pain.
I'm so glad you reposted this piece, Rona. Thank you.
I do enjoy your articles so much Rona. Intimate and personal, yet so universal 👍😍
Thank you, Lucy. Intimate and universal is my goal.
Estrangement is more common than many realize and there are many reasons for it which remain unknown. I experienced it in parts of my family too. Some were boundaries that were drawn so a person could survive the circumstances of life in a dysfunctional family. As a therapist now in my 70's, experience has taught me that dysfunction sneaks into relationships and then spreads through stories that change as they are shared through a chain of family stories which permeate generations. For me, I like to use these stories from my family to explain why I am who I am and how they guided and affected my life.
It’s fascinating and sad how truncated, skewed stories get handed down. Letters, if anyone saved them, make it possible for later generations to discern part of what happened. Between my father and Theo, there was never any “You and I are done,” as far as I can tell. They drifted into uneasy silence that hardened. Thank you for sharing your perspective as a therapist and a seasoned human.
Not a scar. A wonderful memory: My uncle, who I adored, had a boat-a good sized boat that had been in the Coast Guard during WW2. For the bicentennial, with family on board, he sailed the boat in the armada going down the Hudson River. It was thrilling.
Oh, I bet! No one in our family had a boat, and that one was steeped in memory.
My mother’s parents didn’t want her to marry my father because he was one-half Native American and from a poor family. Growing up, my sister and I our heard our mother tell this as a story of true and passionate young love thwarted by an older generation’s prejudice. But the older she got, the more our mother yearned for her parents’ approval and embraced their prejudice against Native Americans. So what if she stayed married to our father till she died? In so many ways, her true loyalties lay elsewhere.
What do you do with a story like that? It was a subtle and confusing poison to grow up with.
Troubling and heartbreaking. Emotionally, she cast her lot with those who disdained your father.