Sisterless

My broken relationship with my sister is a source of sadness

Photo by Trym Nilsen on Unsplash

I was on the phone to my mother last weekend and she mentioned that she was meeting my sister at a garden centre - would I like to come? I said no. If she’d wanted me to come, she would have asked me. The truth is, we barely have a relationship anymore. I’m not sure how or why we got here but the facts are these: I rarely see or have any contact with my sister and when I do, it’s awkward. For me, this is a source of enduring pain. For her, I can only assume not.

Growing up it was so very different. There are less than two years between us (I’m the older sibling) and we did everything together. As a small child she liked to copy me. When I was two, I started wearing glasses and family folklore has it that she insisted on also wearing them, even though she didn’t need to. Fed up with her badgering, our mother eventually had to take the lenses out of an old pair of mine.

When kids in the street called for us, it was always as a twosome, and when one of us got invited for tea, the other did too. I remember once going to the house of one of my sister’s schoolfriends. Her dad was a fireman – I was pretty impressed by that – and, for dessert, we had ice cream topped with Ice Magic, a sauce that hardened when it made contact with the cold. On that particular occasion, I felt pretty lucky to be a plus-one.

We danced and did drama together, having endless debates about whether to continue the latter, and when my sister was thinking of dropping out of her A-levels, I was the one she came to for advice. I was away at university at the time and I remember sitting on the stairs as she poured her heart out on the phone. It was obvious she wasn’t happy so I told her just to do it. She did and never looked back.

When I was pregnant with our second daughter it was my sister we asked to come and look after our first one when we went into hospital. It didn’t quite go as planned, with me giving birth in our bedroom following a turbo-charged labour. We left her with our toddler as the baby and I were bundled into an ambulance for a belated hospital trip, my husband following in a daze. When he returned, she’d cleaned up all the mess. And, believe me, there was a lot.

Things began to change when my sister moved house. She’d previously lived down the road from our parents with her fiancé. They’d split up and she’d met and married someone else, who, understandably, was keen to start afresh. She only moved a distance of half an hour’s drive, and yet it seemed like the other side of the world. There was an immediate sense of her pulling away, of no longer wanting to be in the family fold. When she had her two children this only intensified.

For a number of years, my husband, daughters and I, plus my parents, did a Christmas experience where we stayed over for a couple of nights. In the beginning, I’d ask my sister to come too, thinking it would be lovely for her girls, but there was always an excuse. Her husband is an airline pilot, so it was easy to blame his erratic shifts for her lack of availability. One year they did come, but it all seemed a bit too little too late.

Then there was my fortieth birthday, when I invited the whole extended family for a weekend break. My sister immediately declined, without even bothering to check the dates. I wasn’t surprised. At first, I wasn’t even that hurt. Then all my in-laws accepted the invitation. It seemed she was going to be the only one not there. This felt bad enough, then I discovered that a little while after my birthday, my sister and family were flying to Poland for a wedding. I think my brother-in-law was the best man, but it still felt like a slap in the face.

A side effect of my broken relationship with my sister is that I have none with my nieces – or at least, no meaningful one.  I rarely see them and for Christmas and birthdays, I give them money in a card, which my parents deliver. They still have contact with my sister, but it’s very much on her terms. The fact that they were meeting her at a garden centre near where she lives, at a time of her choosing, following a last-minute phone call, speaks volumes. They feel, as I do, that they’re on the periphery of her life, neither needed nor especially wanted. The key difference is that they’re prepared to dance to her tune, being desperate to see their grandchildren, whereas I’m not. If we can’t have an equal relationship, I’d rather do without.

How I’ve dealt with the situation has varied over time. I used to talk about it a lot – to my husband, over dinner, to a point where he’d become exasperated. He wasn’t trying to be cruel, he just felt that endlessly agonising over it wasn’t serving me. He was right. It wasn’t. I’ve also tried the ‘out of sight, out of mind’ approach, which I’ve largely stuck to, though I do waver. I saw my sister at our dad’s birthday meal in July (one of a handful of times that year) and it was so awkward, I decided to have it out with her. I suggested a walk, thinking I’d get everything off my chest and we could wipe the slate clean. She didn’t take me up on it. Perhaps it was for the best.

I know I should be thankful for the functional relationships in my life, and I truly am. My parents are wonderful - I don’t know where I’d be without them. I have a loving husband and two amazing daughters. I have meaningful friendships. I also have a great relationship with my in-laws, who treat me like a blood relative. But I don’t have a sister, and that really hurts. I don’t think it will ever stop.

Do you have a difficult relationship with a family member? I’d love to hear about your experience.