A Blog of Flashbacks

Three Lost Siblings

November 2025

Once upon a time we were four close siblings. When I was little, Mary and Hannah read stories to me, Bill teased me a lot. I hollered or cried and he and I were sent to our rooms. His room connected to mine through his closet. It did not take long for one of us to open the closet doors and apologize. When I complained to Mummie she said he teased me because he loved me. That made no sense to s four-year-old but opening that closet door was an invitation to a game. We always had Parcheesi, checkers, Monopoly, or Sorry set up and play we did. I’m sure our mother knew, but we thought we had a big secret. Except for Monopoly, we emerged from our rooms when the game ended. Monopoly went on for days and we left our rooms when we wanted to do something else.

As adults Bill and I were very close.

Every family has varied stories. This is a short version of mine. Yes, we were a happy family.

Bill, Mary, and Hannah in 1935. I didn’t come along for another six years.

Mary was eleven years older than I. When I was young, she was my source of comfort. She calmed me when I was upset. She was also the one we all admired for her beauty and intelligence. I’m not sure she ever saw herself that way.

Hannah was the gentle one of us. She was delighted when I was born as I was hers. Once I became an adult, she and I talked on the phone at least once a week. When I had a problem, she always showed me another way to view the situation. Don’t ask why something happened. Analyze the situation and see what possible solutions might be. She was a genius at that. Even towards the end of her life as I described the book I was beginning to write, she said I needed to read Joyce’s Ulysses. She was right.

From my photo album. Bill 1949, Hannah 1952 (prep school graduation), Mary 1951 college graduation), Abigail 1952 (at Aunt Mary and Uncle Henry’s wonderful farm)

All my siblings were my personal and intellectual companions. If I had a cooking or chemistry question, I called Mary. A geology or any analytic question meant a call to Bill. For a discussion about literature or people, I called Hannah. We always called one another on our birthdays. We also called one another just to chat. I became the family memory often receiving calls to ask when someone had the chicken pox or when did we go to Aunt Tatty’s and Uncle Les’s or when did we all go to the Hastings on Cape Cod, or which year did one of them live in Maine with Mummie, Daddy, and me. I always was amazed that I remembered events in their lives that they had forgotten. Sometimes these events took place before I was born, but I was the family memory because, like our father, I’d heard the stories and didn’t forget them.

Dad, Mary, Bill, Abigail (seated), Hannah, Mummie. The three is front are my siblings-in-law—Hugh, Connie, and Paul. My siblings and their spouses helped me grow to the person I an now. This was our last family photo as our father died a year and a half later. We’re at cousin Tanya’s wedding.

As adults we all traveled a lot. Mary and her husband lived in Holland for six months. Bill and his wife, Connie, traveled in Europe. They traveled to Mexico a lot with his family. They also traveled to Colombia and China. Hannah lived and taught in Ukraine. She and I traveled to the USSR (1987-1988), Russia (2007), Mongolia, Ukraine, and England.

Hannah and Khangal, our guide, in a ger in Mongolia. Hannah and I traveled a lot together.

All four of us also traveled and lived across the US, starting our young lives at the family home in Framingham Centre, MA. 87 State Street became like a family member which often housed various aunts and cousins for months or years. We and cousins talked about the house as if it were a family member. Indeed, I think it was.

Laughter was always a staple of our lives. Our mother was very witty, our father a master of puns, humor, and wit. We never heard our parents argue. I remember one time my father disagreed with our mother about something I thought or wanted to do. He informed me upstairs that he agreed with me but would never openly side with me and contradict my mother. I was on my own to argue my case. He said he would sit in silence. His silence would mean I had his support. I don’t remember how the situation turned out, but I remember the lesson he taught me: when to remain silent (his) and how to express yourself in a conflict situation (mine).

Mary, Bill, Hannah and I with our cousin, Bill Burgess, in Halifax, Nova Scotia, 2003. We also visited cousin Ingrid on the other side of the family and of the province too. The four siblings, and Bill’s wife, Connie, took a trip to Nova Scotia to visit our ancestral land and some cousins.

Three sisters with their brother. Abigail, Mary, Bill, and Hannah at Mary’s Vermont home after her husband died.

As adults we lived in each of the continental time zones. That did not mean we weren’t close. As adults, we usually gathered by twos or threes. One time, Hannah and I flew to Colorado to surprise Bill for his 80th birthday. He’d gone out with a friend to celebrate. We sat mid-afternoon till dark as we waited for him to come home. 

There are still those moments when I want to call one of them to ask a question or just to chat. I ache that that is no longer an option. I answer my questions myself with sibling content and in their tone and timbre of voice.

Now I am alone. I miss them terribly.