100,000 More Times If I Need To

This has been a weird summer.
It's cool like April.
And it's been April since 4 months ago.
I switched my comforter to a thicker one a few days ago, it went down to the 40-ies at night, believe it or not. The world is nearing the end.
Well, enough about the weather.
Today, I am going to share something that is really personal about my family.
My brother has separated from his wife. After more than 12 years of marriage, he left his house and rent a one bedroom condo on the other side of the city almost a couple of months ago.
I have been holding my breath for quite a while, and it finally happened. And I am glad, to be honest.
But I am weeping inside.
I don't know how I feel. Ideally I want him to have a family. To be near his children, but life is f***ing unfair. And it's either you fall and cry on the side of the road, or you wipe your useless tears and keep moving.

My brother is the one of the few that I truly unconditionally love. The soft spot in my heart, my hero, my friend, my idol, almost my everything, (if I don't have ChicagoDimCorner).
I cannot express in words how strong of an influence he is all my life. I look up to him since as long as my memory serves me.

But then again, like I said, life is a bitch. And you just have to play the cards you're dealt.

He's not perfect. But for me he is a perfect brother. And I am privileged.

My parents... they love me, I know. I feel it. But we don't say I love you to each other out loud. I never said how much I love my brother. Ever. Out loud. I wonder, would it be weird if I do that?
I told ChicagoDimCorner, when we have children, I want to be able to express to them how much I love them, in words.

And in the helplessness that I felt, I prayed. I have been praying a lot for him. Oh God, please give him strength and wisdom and peace and clarity of mind and most of all happiness. Please be with him. Please. Please. Please. Please....
And I will pray 100,000 more times until I know for sure that God listens and grants my pleas.

I don't know how big the psychological impact would be for his children. But he is doing his best, he is a good father, he has always been, like he's a good brother to me.
Again, in my helplessness all I can do is pray for his children.

I don't know what the atheists do when they have problems. When it seems like there is no way out, and everything is just hopeless and you have no friends and you need help. Because, for me, I pray.

When he moved out of his house, my mom was all tensed, nervous and fell in deep pity for him.
Your poor bother, who's going to cook for him, poor thing, how is he going to take care of himself, who's going to do his laundry. Sigh... the apartment is very small, too small for even one person. Blah blah blah...

And so I said to my mom, in a very composed, together and calm manner, that she should be glad that he's left. That he is getting his independence back. His sanity back. His freedom. His peace of mind. That's he's standing up for himself and we shouldn't be too involved in little details.
We should let him take care of this by himself, after all, he's a 41 year old very capable adult.
We all just need to pray and tell him that we are there for him. He's going to be just fine.

But then, I hung up the phone with my mom and I started crying, oh my God, who is going to cook him meals, do his laundry, is the apartment furnished? Does he sleep on the floor at night. Oh my God, please help him.

But I think God did hear me. He is doing fine. He's getting his life back together, he wakes up in the morning not feeling like crap anymore.
And the apartment is furnished. He has a very nice and comfy-looking bed.

But still I am praying... 100,000 more if I need to. Just to see him happy.