Siblings

Siblings are always there. A part of your life. You remember how they were as children. And they remember you. In adulthood, you may remain very close - in regular contact or you may possibly be at loggerheads with one another - rarely speaking but still always connected. You can never get away from that.

Several regular visitors to this humble Yorkshire blog have revealed how important  their siblings or particular siblings are to them in their lives. A sibling always gives you something different from a friend and though you might divest yourself of a friendship, you can never fully break free of a sibling. Other friendships can be made but you cannot create new siblings.

My wife Shirley has one sister - Carolyn - who unexpectedly became a widow in 2011. Not a week goes by without the two of then nattering on the phone. It's like an endless conversation with breaks in between. I am sure this sororal relationship strengthens their self-confidence in everyday life. It's comforting to be able to share pretty much everything with your sister or brother.

I only have one sibling left - my brother Robin who resides in south western France with his girlfriend Susie. We might only speak on the phone once a month but when we do, the conversation  will invariably bounce along for over an hour. We respect our differences and we share many memories. It always gives my batteries a boost when I talk with him.

Earlier today a brown envelope dropped on our doormat. It came from Sheriff Hutton near York where my late cousin John dwelt with his wife Ann. It contained two family photos - John was very keen on family history and had gathered a lot of genealogical  information over countless hours.

The picture at the top is I think from 1957 showing me in the centre with my three brothers and at the top that's a studio picture of my father with his three siblings. I estimate that that picture was taken in 1925 when dad would have just turned eleven. He's top left with his hand on his sister Evelyn. Sitting to the right is my Uncle Jack who was killed in World War II. Previously, I blogged about him here. Standing to the right is my Uncle Frank about whom I know very little. There was a fourth half-brother called Uncle Tom who was older than my father and as far as I understand was born out of wedlock. He became a lovely man and was a fine uncle too.

And you dear reader, what of your siblings?

from Yorkshire Pudding https://ift.tt/zDq8rPI