I have four sisters and one brother, and I have always shared a great bond with my siblings.
Despite significant age gaps (four of us are Gen X and two are Millennials), and the fact that we live in different time zones with demanding careers, we remain incredibly tight. We have built six different lives in cities thousands of miles apart, yet we always show up for each other.
When people ask how we do it, I give all the credit to our parents. And our weekly video calls.
Our parents were the gravity that held us together
Our parents were the rock for their own siblings. They never hesitated to go beyond their means to support an aunt or uncle in need, and always got the same in return. They also worked tirelessly to create a harmonious bond between us, stayed fair, and resolved disputes before they could ever turn into grudges.
When they were alive, the math of our family was simple. They were the center, the gravity that pulled us back to the same dinner table on every occasion. But after we lost them both, the silence they left behind was huge. Without their voices to guide us, the distance between our homes suddenly felt much wider.
While my father died three decades ago, my mother passed just a few months ago. Her death was sudden, occurring while she was visiting my sister in New York. My brother, two sisters, and I were in Pakistan, while our other two sisters were in the US. We stayed connected through video calls, eventually watching her funeral through the same lens. We never imagined this digital medium would become our primary way of staying whole.
We decided to stay connected via weekly video calls
A week after my mother’s passing, my eldest sister organized a conference call and proposed a new tradition: a weekly virtual meetup. We knew that with our varying time zones and hectic routines, individual calls wouldn’t be enough.
Now, every weekend, six screens light up. In one box, the sun is rising, while in the other, it’s late at night. I always compare it to a beautiful, grainy mosaic.
Initially, the calls were heavy with grief. We discussed logistics, the family home, and the things left behind. But slowly, life started to leak back in. There is a unique healing in seeing a sibling’s face and recognizing our mother’s smile or our father’s laugh reflected in their expressions. For that one hour, the distance between us disappears.
We share life updates and memories of our parents. We discuss the weather in Canada, a recipe tried in New York, or a job promotion in Pakistan. We argue over childhood memories, our voices overlapping until someone shouts, “One at a time!”
Also, one of us always makes sure the rest are present, and if someone misses a Saturday, we try again on Sunday.
The legacy is already passing to the next generation
The best part is that it isn’t just the six of us anymore. Our spouses and children frequently join in, turning the call into a joyful, chaotic family reunion.
Living in different countries means I can’t reach out and hold my sister’s hand on a bad day, and I can’t simply drop by to watch my nieces and nephews grow up. But these calls have taught that a scheduled hour on a weekend can make you feel at home.
I now see the bond growing between our children, too. A few weeks ago, they created their own WhatsApp group. I was moved to realize that the legacy of staying connected is being successfully passed on to the next generation.
This tradition will carry on, serving as a blessing whenever one of us needs support or simply the assurance that we aren’t alone.
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