Eleven days ago.
Ahead of the recent cremation of my grandmother, I'd had a falling out with my sister - nothing more than a brief flare-up, but this was unusual - Sister and I generally get on well. Leaving the north east, prior to my return for the cremation, we'd not healed the rift. Unsatisfactory, but something that we could both live with.
On my return for said cremation, about to enter the familial home's front room, I wondered what kind of atmosphere awaited. As I move into the open doorway, Sister spotted me, suppressed an embarrassed smile and raised an eyebrow at me - a quiet 'Hello'. In response, I stick two fingers up at her and ask, 'Cup of tea?'.
That's how we don't deal with issues.
After the cremation service and an entirely pleasant afternoon, spent with relatives who I'd not seen in years, I requested a lift to the station from Sister, and she obliged. En route - a 15 minute hop, we discussed our mother, and strategies for helping mum - mam - to move on from our grandmother's death. Broadly speaking, we were as one. On reaching Durham, I stepped out of the car, took my bags and said thanks for the lift. Sister replies, 'Y' alright'. And then, as I have my hand on the door - about to shut it, she calls out, 'Oi! Git!' 'What?' I ask, leaning back in. 'Thanks for doing that today', she said, to which I nodded. 'See y' next month', and closed the door.
That's how we draw lines under issues.