My family seemed to have it all. Four of our kids were married to wonderful spouses and three of those had kids of their own. I was an uncle; a wonderful experience but a heavy burdern on my shoulders. Cliche or not, our family seemed to be living the life of the sitcom-Cleavers. Until that fateful day. My older sister, second oldest in the family, cheated on her husband. It seeme unreal, like the whole world was coming to an end.
She was always such a wonderful wife and mother to her two kids, one seven years old and the other was five. Even more of a shock was the announcement she made on behalf of her docile husband. He had had enough. They were going to separate. The first thought that came to my mind was the kids. That huge weight on my shoulders seemed to get fatter than my dad on Thanksgiving Day. I felt a responsibility to care for those kids, even though they were not even in my immediate family. Why are these feelings of love and compassion so strong? Why can’t I accept that families do seaparate? It happens. This world is not perfect and marriafe is fragile. I suddenly had a different twinkle in my eyes when they’d come around the house and my heart would send the deepest prayers to heaven above when they left. A month or two has passed, and my parents are still waiting on my brother-in-law to tell them in person that he would no longer be with their daughter. We see those kids every once in a while but I long to see them every day. No matter how much I try to foget about their situation, I just cannot do it. My mind reverts to that innocent mind of a seven year old, crying for an hour straight after his daddy told him he would no longer be living at the house. That young boy will have to grow up without a father and will be hurt emotionally. That is the part that kills me. I feel that burden and responsibility to protect them from any harm in any way. I am not allowed to help though. This special unit of a family will have to protect them in spirit.
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