This ran heavily throughout one side of my family. It still does. Generations, starting with my aunts down through great, great grandchildren. I have a particular cousin whose mother didn't speak to my grandmother, my aunt doesn't speak to her daughter, and it goes down from there. I'll never understand it. Like my brother once said to me: we inherited quantity but we sure lost quality in the mix.
Thank you for such an honest story that resonates with many of us. My late father didn't speak directly to his father for years, after he was beaten for not attending synagogue. My father regretted those silent years and told me to not hold a grudge, even if I knew I was in the right; to reach out and take the risk of re-establishing contact with those we care about. Not always easy. I'm an only child, but do have 18 first cousins to contend with!
Virginia, I admire how you wrote this, not shooting bullets, but love straight talk. Like you, I adored my older brother, my only sibling. As adults, we grew into very different people of interests, but never did we part. Sadly, he passed in January, and again, I was able to have a conversation with him prior. We disagreed on topics, but none were worth a parting and we both knew it. Thank goodness.
It's sad isn't it. I have a sister who doesn't really speak to me and we are staying in the same house next week....not looking forward to it but I will do my best to make it tolerable for everyone else. Maybe she will thaw out -- forgive and forget. I have moved on but she sure hasn't. So sad that humans can't get along.
I have heard so many stories like this. Heck, I've seen one, up close, in my own family. My dad had one sister, younger, and my mom had four older siblings. We grew up near my mom's hometown and five hours from my dad's. We were much closer to her family geographically but also emotionally—I don't recall how old I was when it became apparent that my mother and my paternal aunt didn't get along, but things got exponentially worse after my dad disappeared when I was 13 and when his body turned up seven weeks later. My mom said it was an accident but my aunt and paternal grandmother knew it was suicide and they blamed her. Things got worse between the two branches of the family, but 12 years after my dad died there was a rapprochement, brokered in part by my cousin, my aunt's daughter. I watched in amazement over the next few years as my mother and aunt developed a relationship that was as close and loving as the ones Mom had with her biological sisters. The surprising compromise was that my mother, who refused to talk about the past with my sister and me, had wanted to with my aunt, and my aunt said, "Nope. If you want to do that, we can't have a relationship" (or something to that effect) and my mother said basically, "Fine, let's move forward," and they did. That's one of my touchstones when I think, "This is terrible, this is always going to be terrible, things will never get better." If those two could put all that animosity behind them and do what they did, I believe anything positive is possible.
So beautifully expressed, but deeply sad. I think we all have these family issues and can only resolve them with a great deal of hard work on both sides. The conversations required unfortunately are sometimes impossible and sometimes too painful.
I share your wish for the curse to be broken, but the story of intra-familial disaffection and disconnection is a sadly recurring one across generations; however, the hope for reconciliation seems inextinguishable and is occasionally fulfilled. My great-grandfather, Samuel Goldbloom, and his brother William came to Canada from Lithuania as very young men in 1880. They apparently had a recurring argument that would lead them to stop speaking to each other for a couple of years and then they would reconnect, overcoming geography that had William living in Prince Rupert, BC and Samuel living in Montreal, Worcester, and Winnipeg. The dispute was over which of them had farted in shul back in Naumiestis, Lithuania. The substance of the argument was more ephemeral than the usual dividing lines of money, property, or perceived affection, but equally trivial when stacked against the richness of relationships.
Another well written story, Virginia. But I’ve never understood brothers and sisters that refuse to speak to one another. Even under the worst circumstances (Can you say Family Business?), there is always reconciliation and forgiveness. Life is way too short to carry the burden of enmity. After all, one becomes the victim of one’s enmity and the weight of it can be crushing.
So much pain, Virginia. I hope you and your brother find healing waters together one day. Till then, feel the warmth from the many who surround you in the loving circle you have created.
One of my dad’s sisters, who he had always been very close to, was told he made a comment about her; she then didn’t speak to dad for 20 years; then he died. What a waste of time that they could’ve spent together. It would’ve been nice if one of them had reached out to unravel the truth and move past all the inconsequential junk.
This piece of writing will somehow be consoling to so many. Family dynamics are always a work in progress. Taking “ sides” is a dangerous dance. Sometimes the in-laws can really upset the apple cart as spouses are called upon to do just that.
Virginia, I’m terribly sorry this curse (as you rightly call it) has fallen on your family. There’s a growing body of research on sibling bonds in adult life, and one of the conclusions is that patterns tend to persist in families. They can become a sad inheritance. I’m glad you are holding onto hope.
There’s some darkness in my mother’s familial line. No estrangements but much sorrow and bitterness. My sister and I have had our troubles but are doing much better than either past generations or our younger selves. It is a joy.
Virginia Fisher Yaffe: Whew, I have that, too. My Mom with her Dad; My Dad with most of his brothers, excepting two (Dad was in a cohort of 8 kids, my Dad was number 5 with three to follow), and now . . . a Daughter, whom I love with my whole heart and being, but who apparently inherits from both of my parents. I tried and hoped to end family separations with my Mom and Dad's generation.
So, you are not alone.
I can still feel what it is to hug that wonderful, strong Daughter.
This ran heavily throughout one side of my family. It still does. Generations, starting with my aunts down through great, great grandchildren. I have a particular cousin whose mother didn't speak to my grandmother, my aunt doesn't speak to her daughter, and it goes down from there. I'll never understand it. Like my brother once said to me: we inherited quantity but we sure lost quality in the mix.
Thank you for such an honest story that resonates with many of us. My late father didn't speak directly to his father for years, after he was beaten for not attending synagogue. My father regretted those silent years and told me to not hold a grudge, even if I knew I was in the right; to reach out and take the risk of re-establishing contact with those we care about. Not always easy. I'm an only child, but do have 18 first cousins to contend with!
Virginia, I admire how you wrote this, not shooting bullets, but love straight talk. Like you, I adored my older brother, my only sibling. As adults, we grew into very different people of interests, but never did we part. Sadly, he passed in January, and again, I was able to have a conversation with him prior. We disagreed on topics, but none were worth a parting and we both knew it. Thank goodness.
It's sad isn't it. I have a sister who doesn't really speak to me and we are staying in the same house next week....not looking forward to it but I will do my best to make it tolerable for everyone else. Maybe she will thaw out -- forgive and forget. I have moved on but she sure hasn't. So sad that humans can't get along.
I have heard so many stories like this. Heck, I've seen one, up close, in my own family. My dad had one sister, younger, and my mom had four older siblings. We grew up near my mom's hometown and five hours from my dad's. We were much closer to her family geographically but also emotionally—I don't recall how old I was when it became apparent that my mother and my paternal aunt didn't get along, but things got exponentially worse after my dad disappeared when I was 13 and when his body turned up seven weeks later. My mom said it was an accident but my aunt and paternal grandmother knew it was suicide and they blamed her. Things got worse between the two branches of the family, but 12 years after my dad died there was a rapprochement, brokered in part by my cousin, my aunt's daughter. I watched in amazement over the next few years as my mother and aunt developed a relationship that was as close and loving as the ones Mom had with her biological sisters. The surprising compromise was that my mother, who refused to talk about the past with my sister and me, had wanted to with my aunt, and my aunt said, "Nope. If you want to do that, we can't have a relationship" (or something to that effect) and my mother said basically, "Fine, let's move forward," and they did. That's one of my touchstones when I think, "This is terrible, this is always going to be terrible, things will never get better." If those two could put all that animosity behind them and do what they did, I believe anything positive is possible.
So beautifully expressed, but deeply sad. I think we all have these family issues and can only resolve them with a great deal of hard work on both sides. The conversations required unfortunately are sometimes impossible and sometimes too painful.
I share your wish for the curse to be broken, but the story of intra-familial disaffection and disconnection is a sadly recurring one across generations; however, the hope for reconciliation seems inextinguishable and is occasionally fulfilled. My great-grandfather, Samuel Goldbloom, and his brother William came to Canada from Lithuania as very young men in 1880. They apparently had a recurring argument that would lead them to stop speaking to each other for a couple of years and then they would reconnect, overcoming geography that had William living in Prince Rupert, BC and Samuel living in Montreal, Worcester, and Winnipeg. The dispute was over which of them had farted in shul back in Naumiestis, Lithuania. The substance of the argument was more ephemeral than the usual dividing lines of money, property, or perceived affection, but equally trivial when stacked against the richness of relationships.
This proves that the subject of the disagreement is totally irrelevant.
Another well written story, Virginia. But I’ve never understood brothers and sisters that refuse to speak to one another. Even under the worst circumstances (Can you say Family Business?), there is always reconciliation and forgiveness. Life is way too short to carry the burden of enmity. After all, one becomes the victim of one’s enmity and the weight of it can be crushing.
so true, David!
So much pain, Virginia. I hope you and your brother find healing waters together one day. Till then, feel the warmth from the many who surround you in the loving circle you have created.
I am indeed lucky to have found this circle!
One of my dad’s sisters, who he had always been very close to, was told he made a comment about her; she then didn’t speak to dad for 20 years; then he died. What a waste of time that they could’ve spent together. It would’ve been nice if one of them had reached out to unravel the truth and move past all the inconsequential junk.
Ain’t that the truth!
This piece of writing will somehow be consoling to so many. Family dynamics are always a work in progress. Taking “ sides” is a dangerous dance. Sometimes the in-laws can really upset the apple cart as spouses are called upon to do just that.
Thanks Ginny
Gotta love Janet!
This hit a chord or maybe a nerve!
Typo in the subhead
Virginia, I’m terribly sorry this curse (as you rightly call it) has fallen on your family. There’s a growing body of research on sibling bonds in adult life, and one of the conclusions is that patterns tend to persist in families. They can become a sad inheritance. I’m glad you are holding onto hope.
I appreciate this more than you can know.
There’s some darkness in my mother’s familial line. No estrangements but much sorrow and bitterness. My sister and I have had our troubles but are doing much better than either past generations or our younger selves. It is a joy.
Virginia Fisher Yaffe: Whew, I have that, too. My Mom with her Dad; My Dad with most of his brothers, excepting two (Dad was in a cohort of 8 kids, my Dad was number 5 with three to follow), and now . . . a Daughter, whom I love with my whole heart and being, but who apparently inherits from both of my parents. I tried and hoped to end family separations with my Mom and Dad's generation.
So, you are not alone.
I can still feel what it is to hug that wonderful, strong Daughter.
Thank you for letting me know I am not alone.