Grateful for Siblings

I have three older sisters, two older brothers and a younger brother who was born on my third birthday. Growing up in the same house, we shared the bathroom, bedrooms and in my case, a birthday.

Though each of us came from the same parents, no two of us are quite the same.

Dramatic, soft hearted, driven, passionate, elusive, creative, opinionated, merciful, and confrontational describes, in part, some of the qualities possessed by my siblings and me. Maybe that is why my mother always told me that if I could learn to get along with my brothers and sisters, I could learn to get along with anyone.

But, I wasn’t sure it was necessary to get along with everyone, nor was I even certain it would be worth the effort. Frankly, I didn’t know how to get along with everyone so I kept a fairly low profile in the family. It was easy. I was only one of seven and close to the bottom of the food chain. 

But then I grew up and began ruminating on the tragedy in our family; Dad’s death by suicide. It rolled around inside my head in a way that I could not ignore. 

One day, in my writer’s group, a small collection of female writers with whom I met and still meet on a regular basis, I dared to share a snippet of the story I’d kept in the confines of my mind.

One of the women told me, “This story has chops.” In other words, it had all the necessary parts to make a good story. That was all it took for me to begin writing more. 

In the back of my mind though, there was a little niggle of worry; “What will my siblings think?” That speck of worry stayed on the back burner in my brain while I wrote, keeping my story as just my story and not theirs. After all, I didn’t know their stories. 

Though my siblings and I all share the same tragedy of our father’s death by suicide, our response to his death was muted. Our shame and confusion kept us silent. 

It was while I was writing my story that the world experienced the crazy epidemic and the shut down of life as we knew it. In order for all of us to stay in touch, one of my sisters instigated weekly family conference calls.  

At first, I could not fathom participating in a family phone call. After all, I’d kept a low profile. Talking with everyone at once seemed terribly intimidating. But, the peace maker in the family encouraged me to join in and I did.

These phone calls gave me the opportunity to tell them that I was writing a book and it gave all of us the opportunity to open ourselves to conversing about a topic that had always been closed. These phone calls were and still are cathartic for all of us. 

Families, their histories and their characters are complex. Add a tragedy and the plot thickens. 

Even though I didn’t especially relish my siblings while growing up, now that I am all grown up, I am grateful for them.

Why Bother?

Why bother being grateful for siblings? If you are fortunate enough to have one, or two or more, siblings then you are richer than those who have none. Who else, except for a sibling, can share in the history making of the family, testify of our personality and share their side of the same story called family?

P.S.  I wrote the story of my journey to forgiveness for those who, like me, know they need to change, but are not quite sure where to start. You can find A Heart’s Journey To Forgiveness at Redemption Press and Amazon.