Sisters: For Better or Worse
5 minute read
There are a multitude of overly sentimental quotes about sisters on the internet, none of which felt appropriate to my experience of having three. But the brilliant Toni Morrisson made complete sense to me when she said: “A sister can be seen as someone who is both ourselves and very much not ourselves – a special kind of double.” I am the third of four sisters, and I also have two older brothers (both of whom are wonderful but I’ll embarrass them on another day). Growing up, our house was chaotic, cramped, fun, loud, frustrating and reassuring – like The Waltons but with less saccharine and more sarcasm. There’s an age gap of ten years between my eldest and my youngest sister; irrelevant now, but colossal when “the little ones”, as my younger sister and I were called – there’s only 18 months between us – were under the age of ten.
Perhaps this is why I’ve enjoyed having sisters even more in midlife than ever before. The disconnect that exists between teens and tweens has long evaporated.
The lens through which we view each other is no longer the distorted prism of our parents’ house.
The cycle of fall-outs and forgiveness that defined our earlier adult years, as we each reshaped ourselves outside the parameters of the family hierarchy, has long lost its pedal power. Having said that, we’re not Little Women, as my mother would wish (as every mother wishes I imagine), and by that I mean we’re not a foursome that drinks together, holidays together or shops together. We tend to do those things in smaller subsets.
There can be tensions when we do all meet up, but this can happen when any four women with strong, independent personalities meet – those Sex and the City “soulmates” certainly had their fair share. In a 2017 article in The Guardian, clinical psychologist Alexis Johnson explained why: “On personality scales, adult siblings are no more alike than any two people of that age. So we expect siblings to have an automatic draw, but usually we would never pick them out to be our friends.” It’s true. My sisters and I have joked about this in the past, and it’s what makes my relationship with them so fascinating: on the one hand I doubt I’d be special friends with any one of them were we not related, yet there’s absolutely nobody I’d rather spend time with.
Some of us are closer than others of course, but when it matters, we’re a strong team, like the week of my Dad’s passing 18 months ago. Together we made arrangements, sandwiches, jokes, small talk with strangers and memories. There are so many idiosyncrasies in the days between death and burial. Siblings, whether sisters or brothers, make times like these so much less lonely. I couldn’t help this week but think of Sarah Everard’s sister Katie. Her mum Susan described the family’s pain as “visceral”. That word made me go cold inside. There’s a depth and emotional torture to that kind of trauma that I’ve been fortunate enough never to experience, but I know that if I lost one of my sisters, the anguish would be visceral.
In midlife I’ve realised it doesn’t really matter whether we get along all of the time or most of the time or just some of the time as long as we’re all still here and within the family framework; by that I mean not estranged. In The Guardian article, Johnson goes on to explain that “for adult loyalty to survive, it has to endure a lifetime of ‘transitions’, or fundamental shifts in family structure”, ie. births, death, marriage, elderly care and inheritance. My sisters and I have been through almost all of these shifts (and a few more besides), which makes me think we’re doing okay even though we’re not a modern-day version of the March sisters. Now, with the youngest 45 and the oldest 55, we accept ourselves and each other, and in my mind this gives the sisterly dynamic greater authenticity, and potential. It doesn’t make the relationship easier or happier necessarily, but it does create an honest space within which to move forward.
American author Lisa Wingate once said: “But the love of sisters needs no words. It does not depend on memories, or mementos, or proof. It runs as deep as a heartbeat. It is as ever present as a pulse.” I don’t agree. She’s idealising a relationship that requires as much effort and investment as any other. Just as marriage is not a fairytale and motherhood is not easy, sisters are not always shoulder to shoulder. But they don’t have to be as long as they can budge up and step up when life gets difficult. And mine always do. If ever I’m feeling panicked, anxious, sad, scared or discouraged, I’ll go straight to one of my sisters, and they’ll always make things better. Always.
Whether a sisterly bond is strong or not, having a shared history is a powerful thing.
I watched a Netflix documentary during the week about sisters Queen Elizabeth and Princess Margaret. These women were the epitome of that “special kind of double” – the same but utterly different. During Margaret’s lifetime, she and the queen supported, disappointed, rejected and cherished each other just like me and my sisters have and many others too I’d imagine. The only time the queen has been seen to shed a tear in public was at her sister’s funeral in 2002 (not since, even at her husband’s).
At least she was left with an exquisite photographic record of their lives together. From the youngest age, the sisters were photographed side by side, playing, riding, reading, laughing, until the eldest became queen and they were compelled to walk single file for the rest of their lives. As I write this I realise I can only think of a single photograph I have of me and my three sisters together as adults. There should be more. I’d like there to be more. Perhaps I’ll take my fancy new iphone which I bought today and test it out on the four of us.
Marie Kelly, October 2021
dear reader, tell us what you think in the comments below…
join the conversation
share and comment below, we’d love to hear your thoughts…