Mum’s funeral was painful, but my sisters’ cruelty hurt the most

A woman whispering into someone's ear

The author’s sisters whispered to each other behind their hands while she was speaking (Picture: GETTY)

Standing at the podium in January, I took a deep breath, readying myself to read my poem aloud at my mother’s funeral.

I was nervous enough speaking in front of all those people while I was grieving – but what I saw, as I looked out into the sea of faces, made me feel a thousand times worse.

Two of my three sisters were whispering to each other behind their hands – and they continued whispering the entire time I was speaking.

I wish I could say I was surprised. But my sisters hadn’t wanted anything to do with me for years before our mum passed away; and, in that moment, I knew there was no coming back for us.

I have two older sisters and one younger. Growing up in Essex, we were a normal family.

We argued, as all sisters do; but fundamentally, we all got on well.

After we left home, we all lived close by. Our children were all of similar ages, so we’d pass outgrown clothes along and go for days out to the seaside or the park.

They became like a supportive friendship group, just a bus ride away.

Then, in the early 80s, our dad passed away – and I was utterly devastated.

I threw myself into helping my mum with DIY tasks, like decorating; I felt I needed to replace Dad, in some way.

It was around this time that I started to realise my sisters and I are very different people.

No one made any attempt to bring me back into the fold

I believed we should all support Mum; but my sisters didn’t feel the same. One did move in with her, but the other two continued with their lives as normal.

A few years later, when I was in my late 20s, Mum married someone else.

I didn’t particularly like him – and he didn’t like me at all – but I was happy that she had company now.

Less than 10 years after they were married, he died. Again, I wanted to support Mum through her loss – and that was the beginning of the end for my relationship with my sisters.

I suggested we take Mum on holiday to Ibiza, renting a house so that she wouldn’t be lonely in a hotel room on her own.

They agreed; but then they booked a hotel anyway.

Throughout the holiday, my sisters wouldn’t spend time with Mum. Instead, they bitched and bitched about her behind her back.

‘You can’t keep talking about Mum like this,’ I said, firmly – and then, they picked on me. They didn’t speak to me for the second half of the holiday; and so neither did Mum. She believed them when they said I was mean.

When we got back, none of them talked to me for a year. If I texted my sisters, they’d ignore me; and Mum was always on their side.

No one made any attempt to bring me …read more

Source:: Metro


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