04/07/2026

SATURDAY | JULY 4, 2026

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Silent pain of sibling estrangement F AMILIES prepare us for many kinds of loss. We learn how to mourn parents. We know Not after a dramatic argument. Not because of some conversation. Healing is complicated when one person is still trying to understand what broke in the first place. P O T T U O N P O I N T

Sometimes there is a defining incident. Other times, there isn’t. The relationship simply erodes until one day both siblings are living entirely separate lives, connected only by blood and shared photographs from another time. Yet, it remains one of the least acknowledged forms of grief. There are no condolence cards for the brother who no longer calls. No funeral to mark the end of what once existed. No socially accepted way to explain why someone who shares your childhood no longer shares your present. People often offer comforting advice. “Give it time.” “Reach out again.” “People always come back.” Perhaps they do. But there is a particular kind of heartbreak in waiting for someone to remember that you have never stopped loving them. There is an exhaustion that comes from carrying a relationship alone, hoping that one day the weight will be shared again. Estrangement also has a cruel habit of rewriting history. The years spent showing up become forgotten. Acts of care are quietly erased. The sibling who once stood beside you in every important chapter slowly becomes a stranger or worse, a villain in a story you were never invited to tell. Families often speak about forgiveness as though it were a destination but forgiveness is difficult when there has never been a

“Researchers have found that family relationships between adult unresolved childhood wounds, family politics, inheritance disputes, marriages, differing values or simply years siblings can fracture over

unforgivable betrayal. It crept in quietly, one unanswered message at a time, one missed celebration after another, until the relationship that had once felt unbreakable became something fragile and R I

Perhaps that is why sibling estrangement feels different from every other loss. Hope never quite disappears; it changes shape. It becomes quieter, less demanding. It settles into the background of everyday life, surfacing unexpectedly at birthdays, festivals, weddings and family photographs where someone is noticeably absent. Because no matter how much time passes, a brother remains a brother. A sister remains a sister. Love does not always disappear when a relationship does. Sometimes, it simply has nowhere left to go. Perhaps, somewhere today, another brother has stopped calling. Another sister is staring at an old photograph, wondering when the distance began. Another family is pretending that nothing is broken because acknowledging the fracture feels harder than living with it. Blood may be thicker than water. But it is not thicker than silence. And silence, left untouched for long enough, has a way of convincing even family that they have become strangers. Hashini Kavishtri Kannan is the assistant news editor at theSun. Comments: letters@thesundaily.com

how to comfort a friend who has lost a spouse. We understand the rituals that accompany death – the flowers, the condolences, the meals left at the doorstep. But

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unfamiliar. Somewhere along the way, a story was told. A conversation repeated. Words attributed to her that she insists she never spoke. Whether they were misunderstood, exaggerated or entirely invented, almost no longer matters. What mattered was that someone else’s version of events became more believable than years of shared history. Perhaps that is what makes sibling estrangement so devastating. It is rarely just about the silence; it is about watching decades of memories lose their authority to a single misunderstanding. It is about realising that the person who once knew you best has begun to know you only through someone else’s telling. Sibling estrangement is far more common than most families are willing to admit. Researchers have found that family relationships between adult siblings can fracture over unresolved childhood wounds, family politics, inheritance disputes, marriages, differing values or simply years of unspoken resentment.

almost no one prepares us for losing a sibling who is still alive – not through death but through silence. Somewhere, there is a woman who still remembers the little boy who followed her everywhere. He trailed behind her through childhood with scraped knees, endless questions and the quiet certainty that his older sister would always know what to do. She became more than a sibling. She stepped into spaces that life left empty. She attended school meetings when others could not. She sat across from teachers, untangled teenage dramas and became the keeper of secrets that felt too frightening to share with their parents. She celebrated his victories as though they were her own and softened his failures before they became scars. She did these things not because she had to but because that is what love sometimes looks like between siblings. It is rarely grand. More often, it is found in ordinary acts repeated over many years until they become invisible. Then, one day, the silence arrived. DO we truly understand how deeply our words can wound people already living with uncertainty, rejection and displacement? Too often, when refugees enter public conversation, they are met first with suspicion rather than understanding. Their presence is questioned, their intentions are doubted and their belonging is treated as something to be debated. But perhaps our opinions would change if we looked more closely at refugee youth. Not as a problem to be debated but as young people trying to grow up, make friends, support their families and find a sense of belonging in a country they now call home. I would like to share some reflections from refugee youth of various backgrounds who have been living in Malaysia for some time. These are not just statistics, policy issues or stories of displacement. They are young people with thoughts, worries, hopes and emotions that are often left unheard. In Malaysia, many refugee children grow up outside the formal education system. They rely heavily on community-based learning centres run by refugee communities and NGOs. Their lives are shaped not only by school but also by uncertainty, financial hardship and the everyday struggle to find belonging in a society that too often rejects them, overlooks their humanity or sees them only through fear and suspicion.

of unspoken resentment.

Refugee youth: They too have dreams

LETTERS letters@thesundaily.com

Yet, when we listen closely, we realise that many of their concerns are not very different from yours and mine. In a short writing activity in refugee learning centres, we asked refugee youth aged 13 to 18 to open up about what was on their minds. We asked them one simple question: What bothers you? Their answers were honest, personal and deeply human. They wrote about family dynamics, friendship dilemmas, personal struggles and their hopes for a more meaningful future. Each story had its own ups and downs. Some wrote about arguments with friends. Others wrote about feeling misunderstood by their parents. Some expressed sadness, anger, loneliness and confusion – emotions that many young people experience while growing up. But some of the writings went even deeper. They asked questions about identity and belonging: Who am I? Am I Pakistani, Rohingya or Myanmar? Will I ever find a place to call home? Why am I living through so many troubles at such a young age? “I am worried about myself because in the future, my life would change – whether it would be good or bad. I hope my life will be better,” said a Rohingya refugee youth. These are not easy questions for any child or teenager to carry. For many refugee youth, growing up is not only about school, friendships and family. It is also about uncertainty, displacement, poverty

We often forget that while refugee youth experience suffering, it is not their entire identity. They are also children and teenagers with humour, talent, imagination and dreams. – AFPIC

judgement but to understand. Listen not with pity but with empathy. Listen because behind every label is a young person with fears, hopes and aspirations of their own. Before we ask why they are here, whether they belong or what they might take from us, perhaps we should ask what hopes they carry, what futures they imagine and what we might learn if we finally listened. Jeron Joseph

Listening to refugee youth goes beyond an act of kindness. It is a reminder that public conversations about refugees should be guided by empathy, dignity and the recognition that these are young people who are growing up in Malaysia too. When we listen to them, we begin to look beyond labels. We stop seeing only “refugees” and start recognising young people trying to make sense of their lives under difficult circumstances. Perhaps the first step is simple: listen. Listen, not to respond with

and the constant feeling of being in between places. Yet, their writings were less about pain. Many also wrote about love for their families, dreams for the future, gratitude, ambition and the hope of becoming someone meaningful one day. They wanted to study. They wanted to help their parents. They wanted to be seen as more than just “refugees”. We often forget that while refugee youth experience suffering, it is not their entire identity. They are also children and teenagers with humour, talent, imagination and dreams.

Postdoctoral S cholar Asean R esearch Centre Asia S chool of B usiness