This is a brave, wise and poignant essay, Rona, accomplished with your usual grace and elegant style. It will touch many hearts. The story of my late sister and me is too painful to tell here, but I have written about it, published a tiny bit of it, and got written out of my mother’s will as a result - with prodding from an unprincipled brother.
That reminds me of my own situation. Im not sure ill ever forgive my sister and uncle for twisting my words, thus convincing my mother to leave everything to my younger sister.
I remember the original More article. Over the years Joyce and I discussed our relationship with our sisters. I’m an elder sister by 3 1/2 years. My mom was always begging me to be more tolerant of my younger sister and suggesting I take her along even when we were in our twenties. When our mom died at the young age of 57 we grieved together and still do. We’re very different and I will be shaking my head at her my entire life.
I was in my mid-20s, working at a law firm as the editorial lead on a very important project and had enough money to buy floor tickets to a Coldplay concert.
You buy the concessions, I’ll get us to the music for your birthday, I told my little brother, who was six years younger than me. When the time came, he said he hadn’t saved any money for the concert and I swiftly gave his ticket to a friend of mine instead. I was so insistent that he learn his lesson — to hold up his end of the bargain on these things and be fiscally responsible. But I’m afraid the cost of that lesson bore down on me more than anyone. Whatever shred of trust that had been building between us was severed. We’d be strained for many, many years — our relationship buckles easily under the pressure of our differences.
This is how things go, I suppose. I was stuck, so focused on trying to find safety for myself after escaping our family legacy of being taken advantage of at church and volunteering events. I couldn’t see that he was only just beginning to extricate himself from the weight of those expectations too — likely looking for an example, an alternative to that chaotic exhaustion. What would it have hurt to just be generous and enjoy a night of music together?
Amanda, how brave of you to share this heart-wrenching story. And how relatable it is. When my sister and I hurt each other, it was usually because we were struggling to escape a family legacy. Generosity can take years to learn. But we get there if we try.
Beautiful essay (as always!), Rona. I too am an older sister, and as a kid I was never as kind to her as I could have been. Also, it's so fascinating how siblings from the same family grow up to be so radically different from one another--true with me and my siblings, my husband and his siblings, my mom and her sisters, and so on...
What an incredibly honest account of sisterly rivalry. I was also a distant and occasionally nasty older sister to someone who outshone me in almost every way. We also kept ourselves distant, but she died in a car crash at the age of 26, so I was never able to redeem myself in later years. I sometimes wonder what would have happened. Well done, Rona and Joyce.
My sister was 3 years older than me, and she bitterly resented my arrival on the planet. She was volatile and prone to rage. I learned to retaliate against her physical attacks with caustic "funny" verbal attacks of my own. And I disappeared into the world of books where sisters often cared for each other. I always wanted that kind of relationship, but I never achieved it. We lived in Lee, NH for 3 years, and my sister saw your mother for writing instruction. She revered Dr Maynard, and she was jealous of you, who got to live with such an accomplished mother. We moved from the area, but I still remember her talking about Dr Maynard. My sister developed a mental illness, and when she passed away a few years ago, she had alienated everyone who had ever loved her. I made ongoing efforts to have a relationship with her, but her illness made it impossible. I still grieve about it.
Oh, Barbara. What a burden of loss you carry. I’ve tried to stay connected to someone with a mental illness, but her condition wore me down and I withdrew to save myself. I may have known your sister, or at least known of her. Students were a big part of my mother’s life.
That period of estrangement makes your later reconciliation all the more precious. Beautifully told, Rona.
My little sister (3 years younger) is now my best friend. We have a long chat on the phone every weekend and can tell each other anything. Having a shared history seems more important the older we get.
I don't know many stories of sibling / family estrangement that end this way, Rona, and I respect the two of you for your willingness to bury the hatchet. My mother-in-law lives with a son who has elected to cut off communications with his two siblings. Fortunately, she has winter and summer places that allow us to visit her elsewhere. You won't be surprised to also learn that her husband, and his father, were also estranged from siblings. Generational dysfunction? Stubborn Irish dispositions? Some of each? I can't tell you how much I want to sit them all down with a mediator, not that I have that kind of power nor that it's my place to do so. :sigh:
"The wonder to me now is not the rage and resentment that divided us for so many years, but the staunch, insistent love that keeps pulling us together." This is remarkable. Thank you for sharing your story of hope.
Elizabeth, I’m not at all surprised to know that sibling trouble runs in your family. This is so terribly common. My mother disliked and disdained her only sister, who loved and looked up to her. They never stopped speaking, but things were never easy between them. My maternal grandmother, from a large family, loved one sibling and distrusted the others (no estrangement, much ill feeling). My father was the family black sheep. So it’s all the more remarkable that Joyce and I found a different path.
I love all stories about the Maynard family. I get so into a long one like this, I forget to breathe.
How you two extraordinarily different women with fault lines all over the place built a bridge to a place of comfort and respect is a wonder.
I still find writing about the early deaths of my younger sisters too difficult. There are moments when I literally can’t believe they aren’t here.
I do know and can comment about being the eldest child. I never liked the role with all that built in responsibility but absolutely adored those little girls. I don’t remember them ever being a burden when they were young. My parents travelled a lot so I comforted them when they were needing a ‘parent’. We got some pretty wacko babysitters for the lengthy times they travelled abroad.
My brother and I are just sixteen months apart and only have each other now so a new tenderness has seeped through the cracks.
We have nothing in common but the tattered tapestry of a lively, complicated and very brave family of six.
That will be enough as we tiptoe to the inevitable end of our story.
Pam, I remember when you lost your sisters much too soon. “I forget to breathe:” what a compliment. It’s affirming to have you as a reader after all these years dating back to my early Facebook posts.
A wonderful blog. I spent this week missing my "baby" (died at 59 in 2015) brother. Of course the hurt will never leave me but Rona, your story of you and Joyce was a comfort.
So beautiful and true. My sisters are 8 and 11 years older, so they were a pair and I was little pest. They both had kids; I did not. Lots to separate us.
You covered a lot of what I've experienced and still do with my sister. But we are 8 years apart. She was 8 and I was 16 when our parents divorced. She went with mom across country, I stayed with Dad to finish high school and then went away to college. Our adult selves continue to try to navigate the missing years.
That’s a big chunk of sisterhood to lose. I wonder if it occurred to your parents, in the pain of their divorce, how such a huge geographical separation would affect their children. Together, you are trying to restore (or maybe build) the relationship. A beautiful thing.
My advice to my divorcing friends has been, 'get the divorce but stay within driving distance for the kids.' My mom went back to her hometown for support. Unfortunately it wasn't close.
Rona, thank you for sharing this story. As an older sister myself, I remember when that age gap—5 years between one sister and 15 between the other—felt so much larger than it does now. And it’s only recently that I’m realizing the different ways in which I still take on the older sister role. In some ways, it’s habit among us in some ways, I’m sure, it’s me not seeing things as clearly as I ought to.
I’ve started to read Joyce here too, thanks to you. And I love finding (or believing I do anyway) the little intersections between her stories and what I know of yours.
Five years is huge between children (even four limits play potential). And with 15 years, you’re talking different generations. When you left home, your youngest sister was still tiny. Yet it sounds like you’ve found ways to bridge the gap. I’m glad you’ve found Joyce’s stack. We are very different writers who mostly share the same storytelling values we learned from our mother.
This is a brave, wise and poignant essay, Rona, accomplished with your usual grace and elegant style. It will touch many hearts. The story of my late sister and me is too painful to tell here, but I have written about it, published a tiny bit of it, and got written out of my mother’s will as a result - with prodding from an unprincipled brother.
Families! Can't live without 'em--or with 'em, in some cases. Elizabeth, I am sorry for the layer upon layer of loss and sadness here.
That reminds me of my own situation. Im not sure ill ever forgive my sister and uncle for twisting my words, thus convincing my mother to leave everything to my younger sister.
I remember the original More article. Over the years Joyce and I discussed our relationship with our sisters. I’m an elder sister by 3 1/2 years. My mom was always begging me to be more tolerant of my younger sister and suggesting I take her along even when we were in our twenties. When our mom died at the young age of 57 we grieved together and still do. We’re very different and I will be shaking my head at her my entire life.
Well, yes. We too will shake our heads at each other forever, I suspect. But that’s okay as long as there is love and respect.
I was in my mid-20s, working at a law firm as the editorial lead on a very important project and had enough money to buy floor tickets to a Coldplay concert.
You buy the concessions, I’ll get us to the music for your birthday, I told my little brother, who was six years younger than me. When the time came, he said he hadn’t saved any money for the concert and I swiftly gave his ticket to a friend of mine instead. I was so insistent that he learn his lesson — to hold up his end of the bargain on these things and be fiscally responsible. But I’m afraid the cost of that lesson bore down on me more than anyone. Whatever shred of trust that had been building between us was severed. We’d be strained for many, many years — our relationship buckles easily under the pressure of our differences.
This is how things go, I suppose. I was stuck, so focused on trying to find safety for myself after escaping our family legacy of being taken advantage of at church and volunteering events. I couldn’t see that he was only just beginning to extricate himself from the weight of those expectations too — likely looking for an example, an alternative to that chaotic exhaustion. What would it have hurt to just be generous and enjoy a night of music together?
Amanda, how brave of you to share this heart-wrenching story. And how relatable it is. When my sister and I hurt each other, it was usually because we were struggling to escape a family legacy. Generosity can take years to learn. But we get there if we try.
Beautiful essay (as always!), Rona. I too am an older sister, and as a kid I was never as kind to her as I could have been. Also, it's so fascinating how siblings from the same family grow up to be so radically different from one another--true with me and my siblings, my husband and his siblings, my mom and her sisters, and so on...
Well, Sarah, as one older sister to another, I know you had your reasons for doling out kindness in half-teaspoons. Glad you enjoyed this.
I suppose I did! And yes, very much enjoyed this essay!
Terrific essay. I have a sibling who is completely lost to me.
What an incredibly honest account of sisterly rivalry. I was also a distant and occasionally nasty older sister to someone who outshone me in almost every way. We also kept ourselves distant, but she died in a car crash at the age of 26, so I was never able to redeem myself in later years. I sometimes wonder what would have happened. Well done, Rona and Joyce.
My sister was 3 years older than me, and she bitterly resented my arrival on the planet. She was volatile and prone to rage. I learned to retaliate against her physical attacks with caustic "funny" verbal attacks of my own. And I disappeared into the world of books where sisters often cared for each other. I always wanted that kind of relationship, but I never achieved it. We lived in Lee, NH for 3 years, and my sister saw your mother for writing instruction. She revered Dr Maynard, and she was jealous of you, who got to live with such an accomplished mother. We moved from the area, but I still remember her talking about Dr Maynard. My sister developed a mental illness, and when she passed away a few years ago, she had alienated everyone who had ever loved her. I made ongoing efforts to have a relationship with her, but her illness made it impossible. I still grieve about it.
Oh, Barbara. What a burden of loss you carry. I’ve tried to stay connected to someone with a mental illness, but her condition wore me down and I withdrew to save myself. I may have known your sister, or at least known of her. Students were a big part of my mother’s life.
That period of estrangement makes your later reconciliation all the more precious. Beautifully told, Rona.
My little sister (3 years younger) is now my best friend. We have a long chat on the phone every weekend and can tell each other anything. Having a shared history seems more important the older we get.
Thank you, Wendy. There’s some fascinating research showing that sibling relationships become more important as we age.
A sister story for the absolute ages.
I don't know many stories of sibling / family estrangement that end this way, Rona, and I respect the two of you for your willingness to bury the hatchet. My mother-in-law lives with a son who has elected to cut off communications with his two siblings. Fortunately, she has winter and summer places that allow us to visit her elsewhere. You won't be surprised to also learn that her husband, and his father, were also estranged from siblings. Generational dysfunction? Stubborn Irish dispositions? Some of each? I can't tell you how much I want to sit them all down with a mediator, not that I have that kind of power nor that it's my place to do so. :sigh:
"The wonder to me now is not the rage and resentment that divided us for so many years, but the staunch, insistent love that keeps pulling us together." This is remarkable. Thank you for sharing your story of hope.
Elizabeth, I’m not at all surprised to know that sibling trouble runs in your family. This is so terribly common. My mother disliked and disdained her only sister, who loved and looked up to her. They never stopped speaking, but things were never easy between them. My maternal grandmother, from a large family, loved one sibling and distrusted the others (no estrangement, much ill feeling). My father was the family black sheep. So it’s all the more remarkable that Joyce and I found a different path.
I love all stories about the Maynard family. I get so into a long one like this, I forget to breathe.
How you two extraordinarily different women with fault lines all over the place built a bridge to a place of comfort and respect is a wonder.
I still find writing about the early deaths of my younger sisters too difficult. There are moments when I literally can’t believe they aren’t here.
I do know and can comment about being the eldest child. I never liked the role with all that built in responsibility but absolutely adored those little girls. I don’t remember them ever being a burden when they were young. My parents travelled a lot so I comforted them when they were needing a ‘parent’. We got some pretty wacko babysitters for the lengthy times they travelled abroad.
My brother and I are just sixteen months apart and only have each other now so a new tenderness has seeped through the cracks.
We have nothing in common but the tattered tapestry of a lively, complicated and very brave family of six.
That will be enough as we tiptoe to the inevitable end of our story.
Pam, I remember when you lost your sisters much too soon. “I forget to breathe:” what a compliment. It’s affirming to have you as a reader after all these years dating back to my early Facebook posts.
A wonderful blog. I spent this week missing my "baby" (died at 59 in 2015) brother. Of course the hurt will never leave me but Rona, your story of you and Joyce was a comfort.
Thank you, Roberta. I’m sorry for your endless missing.
So beautiful and true. My sisters are 8 and 11 years older, so they were a pair and I was little pest. They both had kids; I did not. Lots to separate us.
Thank you, Stephanie. Sisterhood is a land of mystery.
You covered a lot of what I've experienced and still do with my sister. But we are 8 years apart. She was 8 and I was 16 when our parents divorced. She went with mom across country, I stayed with Dad to finish high school and then went away to college. Our adult selves continue to try to navigate the missing years.
That’s a big chunk of sisterhood to lose. I wonder if it occurred to your parents, in the pain of their divorce, how such a huge geographical separation would affect their children. Together, you are trying to restore (or maybe build) the relationship. A beautiful thing.
My advice to my divorcing friends has been, 'get the divorce but stay within driving distance for the kids.' My mom went back to her hometown for support. Unfortunately it wasn't close.
Wise words, Chera. I don’t think they’re spoken very often.
Rona, thank you for sharing this story. As an older sister myself, I remember when that age gap—5 years between one sister and 15 between the other—felt so much larger than it does now. And it’s only recently that I’m realizing the different ways in which I still take on the older sister role. In some ways, it’s habit among us in some ways, I’m sure, it’s me not seeing things as clearly as I ought to.
I’ve started to read Joyce here too, thanks to you. And I love finding (or believing I do anyway) the little intersections between her stories and what I know of yours.
Five years is huge between children (even four limits play potential). And with 15 years, you’re talking different generations. When you left home, your youngest sister was still tiny. Yet it sounds like you’ve found ways to bridge the gap. I’m glad you’ve found Joyce’s stack. We are very different writers who mostly share the same storytelling values we learned from our mother.
♥️
This left me with tears in my eyes when I finished reading. My big sister died last year. There were seven years between us . We were so different but
close due to the fact we had a brother
separating our births. I am so happy to
read you and your sister have so much
insight now into your live’s. We do have
to live awhile to realize the heartache
and challenges we are surprised with
in life. I miss my sister every day .
Kathleen, I am sorry for your irreparable loss of your big sister.
Thank you. Judy, my sister would have enjoyed
both essays.