Sisters
Lest we forget
Today would have been my younger sister’s 58th birthday had she survived the cancer and chemotherapy that combined to take her life in 2020. This is the poem I read for Sophy at her funeral.
Sisters
It is not guaranteed that two shoots should grow alike,
though sown from the same seed, bequeathed a name,
a sequence of genes, seeming resemblance.
Despite shared ancestry there is no certainty
that they will blossom simultaneously
or in coordinating tones. They might favour
diverse lights, thrive in distinct environments,
reach different heights as they take individual shape.
They may seek to escape from a destiny defined by roots
that intertwine, feeling, perhaps, there will be time
to incline toward the other in the gentler years
of slow decline.
Yet they will find no assurance, arriving at this confluence,
that it will abide. Nor is there any rule which states
the seed that germinates ahead must always precede
her sister to the end, though that would be more just,
more orderly and easier to comprehend than what Fate
may intend when it picks the fresher flower first,
leaves the other wilting, clinging at the last
to all that held them bound fast together,
even over stony ground.
Yup ... ya nailed it!
I lost my big sister in 2003 after a long struggle with mental illness. Cancer finally got her in the end, but she never knew, as she died suddenly at 48 years. I often reflect on how things could have been different if different paths had been taken. She showed me a different perspective on life. She was an original hippy who travelled the world and settled in Cornwall. Leaving 6 children. RIP Anne