I never thought I would presume to say that I know how the Prince of Wales feels – but sadly I can now do so.
Should he twist or stick, reach out to Harry on his return to England or shun him?
Should he act like a wiser big brother or decide that relations have deteriorated too far for that?
Every fibre in my body screams out, go for a reconciliation, see if it is possible. Isn’t that what family means? Doesn’t the New Testament tell him as a future Supreme Governor of the Church of England to turn the other cheek?
Certainly, the tale of the prodigal son has the message of welcoming a renegade member of the family back into the fold. The principle is the same towards a brother – life is warmer together and colder apart.
And yet my drive for a happy family reunion is brought to a screeching halt when I think of one of my own brothers. We have not spoken for eight years and have no intention of doing so. I don’t even know where he lives.
In fact, I am ashamed of admitting this as everything above indicates that we should meet and reconcile. But sometimes theory and reality clash, and they certainly do in our case.
The added sadness is that, like William and Harry, we were once very close.
Prince William and Harry are understood not to have spoken for the best part of four years, and were last seen together in public at Charles’s Coronation in May 2023
There is a 13-year gap between us, and my mother often said I was like a second father to him, changing his nappies as a baby, taking him in the pram to the local playground, spending time with him as he grew up.
It is hard to pinpoint the moments when the relationship soured and the bond snapped. I left home for university and saw much less of him. When I did return home, we squabbled. Somehow it turned to distrust and dislike.
When he was an adult, we also had very different views as to how to look after our ageing parents.
One result was that when he lived in the family home, he limited access to my mother, initially at my expense and later my children’s. He would say that she was too unwell to see them, which I found unlikely as she adored her grandchildren.
It ended with a complete blackout of all news about her – including her decline, so much so that we were not informed of her death by him or even the funeral.
Hurtful, especially to my children who should not have suffered because of whatever went wrong between he and I.
Did I try to improve the relationship earlier? Yes, although looking back I cannot be sure if I tried as hard as I could have done.
I do take part of the blame for the fall-out, but definitely not all of it. I also know that we are not alone in our fraternal enmity.
Harry, Meghan and their children Archie and Lilibet have recently returned to Britain – but relations between the brothers are complicated
It is surely significant that the very first example of brothers in the Bible – Cain and Abel – is not a story of lovey-dovey harmony with violins in the background.
Instead, it is a tale of a dysfunctional relationship, of jealousy and anger that gets so out of control that it results in one murdering the other. Biblical fratricide is at the extreme end of family feuds.
Most, thankfully, only feature stubbornness, pride or a sense of betrayal – just ask the Gallagher brothers, who admirably completed their Oasis tour last year after a decade of bubbling animosity, or Brooklyn Beckham, who has severed ties with his family so publicly on social media.
‘Just pick up the phone and make up,’ I hear you cry in exasperation. It’s perfectly sensible advice, but it is not that easy.
For a start, there is a feeling that this is not my task but the other person’s. He offended me, so he should take the first step!
Yes, it might be healthy to reconcile, but pride means I will respond but not initiate. The trouble is that when both parties feel that way, the impasse continues.
Another obstacle is embarrassment. It is awkward to say, ‘Hello, it’s me’ after so long not speaking and plenty of blue air when we did.
I know the best way would be to write down a couple of lines so as not to blurt out something mangled, but that still begs two questions about how the other person might respond.
The Waleses and the Sussexes are not thought to have communicated for some time
What if he spurns the effort, repeats past insults and slams the phone down? Do I really want to expose myself to that rejection?
Alternatively, what if he accepts, and warmly welcomes the rapprochement? That is wonderful in many ways, but it does come at a cost of having to let go of my own resentments at past hurts and wipe the slate clean.
Maybe I’m just not ready. It is much cosier being wrapped in a blanket of anger and victimhood. It also saves me having to ask where I might have gone wrong.
This is why I do not advise Prince William to offer the hand of peace to his brother. Sometimes a wound is best left untouched.
Instead, he could turn away and let go of the relationship completely.
There is at least an honesty in recognising that there are points of no return, nor does it trade a deeply held conviction for the thin reward of forced smiles and small talk at the next family occasion.
Therapists will argue that, despite the initial distress contact might cause, it could eventually lead to mutual understanding and a rich relationship.
Maybe, but in my case, I would want to be convinced of the odds and there are no guarantees.
Giving up on one’s brother may be a painful situation, but at least it has been accepted, put in a box and stored away. It will be even more painful to reopen it.
Still, I am bothered by the fact that as a minister of religion I have frequently met with warring families and my usual response has been that they should err on the side of generosity.
But I also know that some hurts cannot be forgotten and some misdeeds cannot be undone: Prince William has endured the ignominy of his brother divulging their private quarrels to the world for a fast buck. My brother buried my mother without telling me.
This may not be as high a moral or religious a response to which I could aspire, but it is real. I regret it but won’t change it.
I truly hope that Prince William can do better than me, but he will know very well that much depends on the wounds already suffered and the likely response he might receive.
– Jonathan Romain is author of Confessions Of A Rabbi, published by Biteback.
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