Q: My brother and I haven’t talked for four years over a dispute about a family property. Our parents were looking to downsize from our family farm. I offered to buy the farm, but the price was beyond my budget. So I asked them to give me the undeveloped smaller portion of the farm instead and proposed that this would be considered my version of my brother’s, having previously received financial support with his down payment at roughly the same value.
When I told my brother about this, he became angry that I had done an “accounting” of the support that we have each received. We both said things in the exchange that were not nice. I attribute some of my not-so-nice words to unconscious resentment that my brother and I used to talk about how we would do our best to keep the farm in the family, and when the moment came to do something, he didn’t.
I think about our argument frequently, but my brother seems to have written off the relationship entirely. Even when I have implored him that our parents are in the last years of their lives, our kids are growing up without uncles, aunts, or cousins, and we will get old and die, he doesn’t show any willingness to reconcile. He even rejects that we tolerate each other in the name of our parents and children having the opportunity to be together.
I don’t even fully understand how our once-strong relationship ruptured so traumatically in the first place, given that it seems like a fairly normal inheritance dispute, which makes me think that the relationship wasn’t as strong as I had thought.
Is there anything I can do to heal this rupture?
From the Therapist: You’re carrying a great loss — not only of the relationship with your brother, but also of a future in which your family remained cohesive, the farm stayed in the family, and your children grew up with a sense of connection across generations.
I don’t know if your brother will be willing to reconnect, but you can make it more possible by changing your approach.
Reconciliation isn’t really about resolution — it’s about recognition. This means the question to ask yourself isn’t “What do I want him to understand about how this rift has affected me?” It’s “What does he need me to understand about him?”
In families, fairness is rarely about equality; it is about feeling seen, valued, and understood. You believe that you tried to make things fair by equating the land value with the money your parents gave him, but instead you activated something deeper in your brother — a feeling of being audited, compared, judged, disrespected, or erased.
If your “accounting” felt fair to you, consider: Was he consulted? (You say that you “told him” about the arrangement as if the decision had already been made.) Did you work together to find a solution that felt inclusive and viable for both of you? (You say he didn’t step up to keep the farm; was your expectation within his means?) If he couldn’t participate, did he feel shamed or diminished for being unable to take part in what you say was a mutual family dream? And what about your parents — did they agree to this without asking your brother how he felt about it? If so, did this scenario replicate a family pattern?
Many families have invisible ledgers that, when brought to light by an incident like this, reveal the family’s unspoken roles and perceived slights: who was the responsible one, who sacrificed, who was favored or trusted or loved more. If you ignore the effect of the invisible ledger, your appeals will feel tone-deaf to your brother’s experience of what transpired.
That’s why instead of trying to get your brother to hear you, first you’ll need to help him feel heard by you. Even if you’re only guessing, naming a possible emotional experience can be incredibly powerful. It says: “I’m willing to step outside my own story and into yours.”
You could try something like:
I’ve been thinking a lot about our last conversation and rift, and I deeply regret the hurtful things I said. I’ve come to realize that this came from my unresolved issues and not because of you. I imagine that the way I handled the situation made you feel ignored, disrespected, or marginalized in our family, and also judged, like you were being put on trial for getting help from our parents when you needed it. And there are probably ways I hurt you before all of this too. I care so much about you and even if my guesses are wrong here, I want to understand you better. I hope someday, if and when you are interested, we can talk about how I hurt you, without any pressure from me to reconcile.
This is just a first step, and he might need some time to trust that you’re truly interested in his experience. But if you’re genuine and consistent in your intentions, you might learn more about your brother in a way that helps you to learn more about yourself and the impact of your shared family history, which could eventually lead to the kind of close relationship you believed you had and seem to want now.
Of course, he may not want that. Repair takes two, and when a relationship can’t be healed with the other person, you have to heal internally. But while the pain of estrangement is profound, you can choose to use your grief as a guide to create the kind of family your children will inherit — not through property, but through emotional curiosity, self-awareness, and acceptance of what we can and can’t change.
This article originally appeared in The New York Times.
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