I can’t even say that, when the matriach died, the family ripped apart at the seams. It was more like a disintegration. Like a pie thrown against a wall sliding down slowly. Big fat mess that no one took responsibility for cleaning up. Just left the room and kept walking.
The siblings are just so different – conversations might as well be in four languages.
Soon after my mother died, a friend of my sister’s came to visit me. She was worried that we wouldn’t have a focus. ‘You need a hub’ – I believe she was projecting as she tangent-ed off to talk about her own siblings, their mother still alive but leaving this mortal coil as fast as she could. By the time W left she was smiling and seemed totally at ease. ‘You’re the new hub’. We clearly don’t know each other well, it was a duty visit, and so she had no idea during her middle of the night worries about this family, not her own, that I could possibly have the capacity to hub it. She left relieved.
Thanks W but I ain’t no hub, no intention of glueing that lot together.