A few weeks ago I was reminded what a special bond adult siblings hold. No matter the baggage, carried from a lifetime of disagreements and disappointments, this bond is like no other.

It’s an interesting connection we form with the people we grow up with. The people who are intimately involved in the circumstances that surround us as we become who we are destined to become.

With our siblings we share our first peer relationships. Through these we learn about power distribution, negotiation skills, conflict resolution, and unconditional love. We are together for years of family trips, holiday gatherings, family dinners, and household mishaps. We witness each other’s bad fashion mistakes, awkward stages, and first boyfriends/girlfriends. We share family jokes, family feuds, and family secrets. We share family grief and family joy. We share the ins and outs of all the little things that make up a life.

[Tweet “Siblings share the ins and outs of all the little things that make up a life.”]

There is something untouchable about these sibling ties as we become adults. Even if we aren’t close, there will always be a bond over shared early life experiences. We can conjure a smile when siblings start saying, “remember when…?”

As adults, our lives may float away from each other. This has happened with my siblings. We drifted from one another because of too many miles and too many emotions.  But when we are together, the bonds of love hold us close. When conversations flash back to memories of growing up, this renews the sense that yes, we share something. We may have differences, but we share something with each other; something important; something big; something exceptional.

[Tweet “Siblings may have differences, but they share something with each other; something big.”]

It was just a few short weeks ago that I was able to go on an important and long overdue trip.  I took a trip to Washington to visit my siblings; my brother and sister whom I adore deeply. The three of us have not all been together, for more than a conversation of small talk, in close to 20 years.

When I am with my brother and sister, I have a dichotomy of emotions. At times, I am transported back to a time when life was safe and pretty and new. Where love was unconditional. Where anything was possible and the world was bright.

And other times, I am reminded of the painful years leading up to and following our mother’s death; when life started crumbling around us.

Our mom died when she was just 51. She was young and we were young. My brother and sister were 18 and 20. I was 26. This was the last time we were whole, as individuals and as a family. Her loss sent the broken pieces of the three of us, scattering into the wind; floating in opposing directions.

We were too young to know how to keep loving each other without her.

We each dealt with her loss in different ways; I focused on my new marriage; my sister deepened her love for horses; my brother . . . the youngest of the three . . . lost himself. He didn’t know how to “be” without her. He lost his way and neither my sister nor I knew how to lead him back. We spent many years trying, and I think this only deepened the painful divide that formed between us.

We would awkwardly try to dust off and replicate the memory of what our family was before our mom died. Finally, we gave up. Gave up trying to reproduce something that was irreplaceable.

With mom’s absence, our roles shifted. The equilibrium of the family was disrupted and we were each on unsteady ground. We felt wobbly and unstable in this new way of living. We weren’t sure how to live with each other without mom.

For a long time it was just too hard. When we were all together, mom’s absence was glaring; like looking directly into the early morning sunlight. It was so hard, we stopped getting together, the three of us. We each tried to get as far away from the pain as possible. I’d see my brother and sister each individually, but after the first few years, we were never, the three of us, all together. Unconsciously, this seemed like the only way to keep our hearts from disintegrating completely.

At the time my mom died, not only did I lose my mother and best friend, I lost my family. My relationship with my brother and sister became casualties of her death.

Through the passing of time, we have come to see that we can’t continue to ignore each other as a collective because it is too painful. What we share is greater than the pain. We share blood in our veins, we share memories, we share heartache, and we share a deep love for our mom and for each other.

There are only two other people walking this planet who truly know the pain I felt in my heart the day my mom died; that know exactly the anguish I still feel. And those two people are my siblings.

It was time for the pain of loss to pull us together instead of drive us apart.

So finally, after almost 20 years, the three of us came together.

As I sat on the plane, soon to be reunited with the two of them for a five-day visit, I felt light with anticipation. Time and maturity had helped my heart make sense of the unexplainable.  I was elated to see them and for the three of us to spend time, real time together.

But, along with anticipation, I felt nervous. Nervous we wouldn’t have much to say. Nervous the painful feeling of loss would still be the overriding emotion.

It’s funny how when we are together, we slide right back into those roles we had while growing up. I will forever be the big sister, trying to orchestrate everything; my sister will always be the sensitive one; and my brother will always be the youngest, just going with the flow.

It felt good to be together. At first however, the small talk was suffocating. Twenty years of loss floating around the air in molecules; invisible but extremely heavy.

Then, as the days went on, a shift came. We started to see each other, not through the hazy lenses of childhood and early adulthood, but through the breaking down of walls and weakening of defenses.  We were able to start to truly see each other as the people we are instead of who are in relation to each other.

I could see my sister in her own environment; see how she navigates life; really see her as a woman, not just my little sister. I was able to see my brother, almost for the first time, as the man who has his life together; who is content with his circumstances, and who is softening his heart and leaving it open for his big sisters to find a place.

It is normal to have difficulties in any sibling relationship. There will be miscommunication, hurt feelings, anger, disappointment, and frustration. But there will also be love. A deep love that has survived the ups and downs of life.

[Tweet “Siblings share a deep love that survives the ups and downs of life.”]

I love these two people deeply; on a cellular level. And despite our differences, which there are many, my siblings and I will always have each other’s back. I gain comfort from knowing that when the familial shit hits the fan, we will all be on the same team. Even though we live hundreds of miles apart, we will always be there for each other.

The time spent with my siblings a few weeks ago, was significant. Through the initial awkward silence, the hard discussions, and the tears, it brought us together.

It brought laughter and sadness but most importantly, it brought healing that inched us one step closer to wholeness.

Salty Kisses,