Conversation with my partner:
“Am I right in saying that my sister isn’t as awful as I think she is?”
“Yes.”
My partner is a man of few words.
This was going to be the gist of my story. The pain and the anger of not having spoken to my sister since my mother died in 2008.
She behaved abominably; I sent her an abominable letter.
Coward that I am, I have opted to write about my grandmother and her sister instead. They too had a rocky relationship.
My grandmother was a force of nature. Confident to the point of arrogance, she was fearless and disinterested in social mores, but nonetheless had a strong sense of right and wrong.
She married, divorced and at 34 had an illegitimate child. To make it more interesting, the father was a well-known critic/poet, and a member of a well-known literary group, all homosexuals.
In contrast to her unconventional sibling, Ruth, her younger sister, married, and stayed happily married, the loving mother of two sons, and later, the loving and loved Oma of her grandchildren.
Grandmother’s family was not happy with the rise of Hitler, but, unlike my grandmother, was also convinced that he would not last.
Grandmother thought otherwise. She visited her Jewish neighbours and urged them to migrate.
That done, she packed her bags and moved to Rome, where she lived for almost the rest of her life. Aged 91 she migrated to Australia. Unable to persuade her daughter to move back to Italy, she had no choice.
Unlike her final move to Australia, her move to Rome was a happy one. A German Italophile, she adored Italy and the Italians. She would have probably moved to Rome even without Hitler.
Family history, at least my mother’s version of it, has it that grandmother’s brother- in- law, her sister’s husband, was elected mayor of his town once Germany lost the war. He had been chosen because of his, presumably muted, criticism of Hitler. When the Soviets came, he was executed as a representative of Nazism.
In Rome, the only member of my grandmother’s family who visited regularly was her sister-in-law, Tante Elisabeth. She was the widow of my grandmother’s brother. I adored her.
Ruth stayed resolutely in Germany, grandmother in Italy. As far as I know, they did not communicate.
When grandmother talked about her childhood, her brother was rarely, if ever mentioned. Ruth slightly more, but never in a positive light. The unforgivable sin - Ruth stealing her Easter eggs, and her parents failing to replace them.
A few years back Ruth’s great grand-daughter moved to Melbourne, having fallen in love with an Australian man. Her mother, Ruth’s grand - daughter came to visit. We met up and I asked her what Ruth was like: “ A very gentle, loving woman”
Very gentle and loving is not a description I would use for my grandmother. Principled and strong yes, gentle and loving, never.
Grandmother died a few months after Ruth. Grandmother was 99, Ruth 97. I am convinced that grandmother was determined to outlive her sister as yet another act of one upmanship.
Delfina
March 2025
“Am I right in saying that my sister isn’t as awful as I think she is?”
“Yes.”
My partner is a man of few words.
This was going to be the gist of my story. The pain and the anger of not having spoken to my sister since my mother died in 2008.
She behaved abominably; I sent her an abominable letter.
Coward that I am, I have opted to write about my grandmother and her sister instead. They too had a rocky relationship.
My grandmother was a force of nature. Confident to the point of arrogance, she was fearless and disinterested in social mores, but nonetheless had a strong sense of right and wrong.
She married, divorced and at 34 had an illegitimate child. To make it more interesting, the father was a well-known critic/poet, and a member of a well-known literary group, all homosexuals.
In contrast to her unconventional sibling, Ruth, her younger sister, married, and stayed happily married, the loving mother of two sons, and later, the loving and loved Oma of her grandchildren.
Grandmother’s family was not happy with the rise of Hitler, but, unlike my grandmother, was also convinced that he would not last.
Grandmother thought otherwise. She visited her Jewish neighbours and urged them to migrate.
That done, she packed her bags and moved to Rome, where she lived for almost the rest of her life. Aged 91 she migrated to Australia. Unable to persuade her daughter to move back to Italy, she had no choice.
Unlike her final move to Australia, her move to Rome was a happy one. A German Italophile, she adored Italy and the Italians. She would have probably moved to Rome even without Hitler.
Family history, at least my mother’s version of it, has it that grandmother’s brother- in- law, her sister’s husband, was elected mayor of his town once Germany lost the war. He had been chosen because of his, presumably muted, criticism of Hitler. When the Soviets came, he was executed as a representative of Nazism.
In Rome, the only member of my grandmother’s family who visited regularly was her sister-in-law, Tante Elisabeth. She was the widow of my grandmother’s brother. I adored her.
Ruth stayed resolutely in Germany, grandmother in Italy. As far as I know, they did not communicate.
When grandmother talked about her childhood, her brother was rarely, if ever mentioned. Ruth slightly more, but never in a positive light. The unforgivable sin - Ruth stealing her Easter eggs, and her parents failing to replace them.
A few years back Ruth’s great grand-daughter moved to Melbourne, having fallen in love with an Australian man. Her mother, Ruth’s grand - daughter came to visit. We met up and I asked her what Ruth was like: “ A very gentle, loving woman”
Very gentle and loving is not a description I would use for my grandmother. Principled and strong yes, gentle and loving, never.
Grandmother died a few months after Ruth. Grandmother was 99, Ruth 97. I am convinced that grandmother was determined to outlive her sister as yet another act of one upmanship.
Delfina
March 2025
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