My sister’s birthday card for our mum dropped onto my doormat and as it landed, I knew my relationship with her was over. 

Why? All of Mum’s post was being redirected to my house, now that she was living in a care home.

The fact that Marie* sent the card to Mum’s old address proved that she hadn’t been opening or reading any of the letters I had sent her, one of which had contained the address of the care home. 

I knew that she had been receiving them, as the last letter I had sent had been sent by recorded delivery and had been signed for. 

Marie doesn’t have a phone and has no internet access, so letters are the only form of communication open to me, apart from a three hour drive to her place.

Even then, that would all depend on whether she decided to open her door to me. 

I am dead to my sister, but it wasn’t always this way.

Marie and I were so close when we were growing up and while many of our friends fought like cat and dog with their siblings, we played along well together as brother and sister.

It wasn’t just the pair of us; our whole family was close and we were all in a folk band together. 

I sang and played guitar and banjo, Marie played the accordion and sang, Dad played the harmonica and melodeon and Mum sang and played percussion. 

We were well known on the folk club circuit and I have such fond memories of our annual family holidays to Sidmouth Folk Festival. Crowds would gather around us as we busked for fun with other musicians on the seafront with our pet dog, who was always the centre of attention. They were such happy times – we were as close as any family could get.

However, around 36 years ago Marie met a man called James* who was also into music and he would often join us at our gigs.

All seemed well at first and around a year after meeting, they got married. Shortly after their wedding, they announced that they were both Born Again Christians, which they told us was part of the Baptist Church. At first, we didn’t understand the consequences of what they had told us as we had no idea of how extreme and evangelical they would become.

That’s when everything began to change. They started to distance themselves from the rest of the family and told us that they had been ‘saved’ and the rest of us were going to Hell. We were all shocked and hurt by this, as they now seemed so cold and distant towards us after being so close. Their harsh statement really stung.

OK, Dad and I were never religious, but Mum was and she went to church every Sunday.

Marie and James limited the contact we had with them as they didn’t have a phone and emails weren’t a thing in those days. Mum even gave Marie a pay-as-you-go mobile phone and told her she would keep it topped up for her, but she gave it back to Mum, telling her that she didn’t want it.

It was heartbreaking to watch Mum and Dad being hurt so much – I was slightly less affected by their sudden distancing as I was busy with my career as a press photographer and I had a good social life outside of the family too.

But over the years, my sister restricted contact more and more until it was just the bare minimum.

The only reason they gave for doing this was that ‘people change’.

We tried reasoning with them by emphasising what a close family we had always been and that it would be such a shame to spoil that, but they were having none of it.

My dad died of a heart attack around 30 years ago, when I was in my early 20s, and he was heartbroken that our family had been split up in this way.

I never saw or spoke to my sister from one year to the next, but we still exchanged birthday and Christmas cards and presents, but that was all. 

Marie kept in contact with our mum a bit more and she would write to her once every couple of months or so.

But before Mum lost her driving licence (due to her dementia), she would occasionally turn up at their flat unannounced as she was so desperate to see them, although sometimes they wouldn’t open the door to her even though it was obvious they were in. 

When Mum had her fall, which led to her being put in a care home, I wrote to Marie. 

I gave her all the details of Mum’s accident and of her hospital ward, but she never phoned or visited Mum while she was there.  

She hasn’t seen or spoken to Mum for the last three years and as she hasn’t been opening my letters, Marie doesn’t even know if Mum is still alive or not.

I can’t think of a more un-Christian and hurtful way to treat our lovely mum. She continues to be devastated by this and is unable to write to Marie herself.

My bare minimum birthday and Christmas contact with my sister continued until four years ago, when I came out as being transgender at the age of 48. I told her by letter – the only form of communication that we had at the time.

I’d battled with gender dysphoria all my life and although, initially, Marie’s minimum contact continued, it came with a new passive-aggressive twist.

She deliberately used my old name on all correspondence, even though I had legally changed it by deed poll. I found it so triggering when Marie addressed me by my old name, after I had endured such a long and difficult journey to be the real me. 

After I wrote to her to ask her to stop deadnaming me, she stopped all contact and I have not heard from her since. 

I just feel numb about it now. 

Marie’s initial distancing from our family hurt far more than this final nail in the coffin, but she’s still my sister and I feel sad about it. The loss of family is a big price that trans people often face when we decide to live our truth.

My door is always open to her and if one day, she decides that she is ready to accept me as her sister then I would be delighted.

I hope that eventually, Marie will be able to see that I’m exactly the same person on the inside that I have always been, but now, I’m far, far happier.

*Names have been changed

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I am dead to my sister, but it wasn’t always this way.