I’ve written six posts about my Sinnavan. This is post number seven.

I feel like I want to keep writing about her. I want to keep remembering her. And, keep her present in my life.

It’s somewhat like what sister number 1 said to me tearfully over the telephone, ‘If we can’t speak about our sister, cry over our loss to each other, however many times, then who can we share our grief with?’ She’s so right.

My siblings, three older sisters and one older brother, are deeply invested in this huge loss that has left a gaping hole in our hearts. We no longer have sister number 3 and brother number 1 in our lives. Our WhatsApp group was once called the ‘Magnificent Seven.’

What do we do now?

I know the telephone calls don’t help either of us because she’s a mess, and I’m a mess. She’s in a not-good place as she lost her husband, brother-in-law number 1 in January, and now sister number 3 in April. Too much loss to bear in such a short span of time. At any time.

I also know the phone calls are not meant to console each other because there is no consolation. No words can console. We are beyond consolation. And, I don’t think either of us expects to console the other.  How do we do that? Because the fact is sister number 3 is not with us. She never will be, not any more. So, what words can make this very tragic state of affairs feel less bad. Nothing, really.

As an aside, sister number 3 and I have had many conversations about condolence messages, specifically after brother number 1 and our mum passed. No reason for us to talk about such messages, otherwise.

We agreed that words, while kind and well-intentioned, don’t actually help much. We also agreed that wreaths and flowers is another option for people, who are caring and well-meaning, to send in a sad circumstance. We also agreed that we too have conveyed words of condolences, sent flowers and felt sad for the recipient at the time. And then, moved on. Business as usual, as ‘they’ say.

Sister number 3 even told me how she had spewed words of condolences to a friend, who had lost two younger brothers to cancer. She only realised what it must have been like for the friend when we lost brother number 1.

Now, being the recipient of her loss in my/our lives is hard and heart breaking. It’s not business as usual. It cannot be because I/we are living it and re-living it. The finality of death. Our loss is final. It’s not fleeting. It’s not going away, anytime soon. Sister number 3 is one of us. An important artery in each of our hearts and lives.

And, that’s basically what the telephone calls between sister number 1 and me are about. Apart from the many questions we have with no or very few answers that make any sense about what happened towards the end of her life, we just talk about her. Our experiences with her, and memories of her.

Sister number 1 and sister number 3 have a long history. Three years apart in age, they went to England in their early twenties. As sister number 1 related to me, sister number 3 was with her for over 50 years. At her wedding and at her husband’s funeral. She was the loving ‘Sinnie’ to her two daughters, and two granddaughters. She was the one who was always present to support and be available for her and her family. 

Witty and sharp, she was quick with her retorts. She also readily quoted proverbs and sayings. And, did funny things. Thankfully, sister number 1 and I are now managing to laugh over her antics, and there were plenty.

For instance, during a visit at Deepavali, she attached plastic cutlery and a plate to a string tied to her waist to protest and demonstrate that she was adhering to our mum’s then strict no-contamination-on-Monday (vegetarian day) rule on the use of cutlery and crockery. Writing this made me smile as that memory is etched in my mind. She also used to get up to all sorts of hilarious tricks with our mum.

Invariably, sister number 1 and I get hit by the reality of her permanent absence. We cry and feel sad again.  

While we don’t plan or want our conversations to get emotional, we both agree that it’s alright. It’s alright to say whatever, and cry, however much, however many times, we want. And, it’s alright because we know and understand how the other feels.

As sister number 1 said matter-of-factly, ‘If we cannot talk about and share our grief with our siblings, with whom, then?

Talking helps, somewhat. As does writing.