Family Ties

Family Ties

It was a dark and stormy night…

    Only kidding. But actually, it was, and that seemed sort of appropriate. She’d always been something of a drama queen, she would have told you that quite happily and been proud of it. It was hard to accept that it would all end before she was fifty years old, in that crisply made bed in the hospice. The dark and stormy bit seemed a suitable accompaniment to her exit from life, somehow.

    We were all there, my two brothers and my other sister, watching our sibling as she began to fade away. Her husband and her best friend sat by the bed, one either side of her head. She was still so pretty, even with her hair only just starting to regrow after her final round of chemotherapy. I used to be jealous of that, of the way men would crowd round her like – well, I was going to say like rats round a rubbish dump, but that sounds unkind. But they were always attracted to her, and she learned very young, fourteen or so, that if she let men sleep with her they would buy her nice things and take her to nice places.

    I think it sullied her, and I don’t mean that in a prudish way; she was entitled to live her life in the way she chose, and I could hardly claim to be whiter that white myself when it comes to matters of sex. Besides, if you’re pretty and intelligent and outgoing, why shouldn’t you take advantage of that while you can? No, I mean that coming into contact with men who would happily spend lots of money on her in return for bedroom favours when she was so young did something to her character that took a long time to undo.

    My father, who had left the room briefly to use the toilet, came back in as lightning flashed across the sky, followed almost immediately by a huge, long, growling roll of thunder. She opened her eyes for a moment as he closed the door behind him, and watched him move silently across the room and sit down next to me, then she closed her eyes again with a very faint smile, as if she was content that we were all there with her again.

    She and I had never been very close; the age gap was too big for that, and we were poles apart personality wise. I was quiet, bookish, liked my own company, where she was gregarious and always did exactly whatever she wanted. I was afraid to break the rules. I’m not sure if she ever really understood what fear was. Life always looked so easy for her. But then she met this man, twenty years older, who tempted her away from her fiancé and held on to her for another ten years. I only met him once, at my wedding, and I couldn’t see the attraction myself. At the time, I’m afraid I just thought he probably had money and that’s why she stayed with him.

    I was never exactly sure what happened, but I got the impression that he started to get violent with her, physically or verbally, I don’t know; but eventually she left him and married the man who had been in love with her for years, who was sitting by her now. I think he was the best thing that ever happened to her. My father thought he was too laid back, that he didn’t have enough “go” about him, but I think he was just what she needed. He gave my sister real unconditional love, which her fiancé had also done, to be fair; but whereas she had rejected that earlier offering and chosen instead a comfortable life with a sugar daddy, now she perhaps realised her mistake and thus started her rehabilitation, I suppose you could call it.

    They moved to a village in the home counties and became an integral part of their local community, where I feel she probably shone as one of the pillars of that little society. The village church was packed at her funeral, at any rate; she seemed to have become much loved by all her neighbours, which was very touching to see. But I’m skipping ahead. It turned out that the expected children didn’t appear, at least not until almost ten years and a lot of medical intervention had passed. She was almost forty when she finally gave birth to their son, and they seemed a genuinely happy family, but I think she must have found it very hard to accept the problems she had in becoming pregnant, after her earlier life had gone so perfectly. At least that was how it had always looked to me. Anyway, I think it knocked a few edges off. She was still the same person, but recognisably more thoughtful and less self-absorbed.

   Then she found out that she had leukaemia. She had been feeling very tired and run down, but finding out what was causing that must have been such a shock. As soon as I knew of it, any feelings I had of jealousy or envy simply vanished. She was just my little sister and I wanted her to be well again. They tested all her siblings to find a suitable blood donor and found that I was a match, so I went to hospital to donate my blood to her in an attempt to banish the leukaemia. It worked for a while, too, long enough at any rate for her to put her affairs in order. About eighteen months she had, altogether.

    I remember her saying that when you were in that position, of knowing that your time was very limited, all the bucket list ideas you might have discussed when you were well somehow became irrelevant, and all you really wanted was to carry on with your ordinary, everyday life for as long as you could. The comfort of the familiar, I suppose. I hope it comforted her that we were all there with her, keeping our mostly silent vigil. When I left I kissed her cheek and wished her a good journey. I don’t know if she heard me, and I don’t know if there is anything after we die, but it felt like the right thing to say. The rain was still pelting down as my father and I left the hospice, battering the windows and the pavements.

    Her death has stayed with me, perhaps not surprisingly. I think she had a peaceful end, but it was so disruptive at the time. Her husband didn’t long outlast her, taken by cancer, but I think his broken heart never mended and he was unable to go on without her. Her son was taken in by my brother and raised with his family and seems happy now. I still don’t know why my sister was taken so young, but perhaps it fitted her character. She was always the centre of attention, even at the end, and I can say that with a smile now. I think we would have grown closer as we both aged, even had some fun together. I like to hope that my envy has gone and I understand her a little better now.

    She lived her life to the full, mistakes and all, and I wish she was still with us. And when there’s a dark and stormy night now, I think of her.