Geraldine, a single mom who lost her husband too young, juggled three kids and life’s demands. She lent her brother $15K for an engagement ring, but when he broke his promise to repay, Geraldine unleashed a shocking move that shook their family to its core.
I’m Geraldine, 38, and being a single mom of three is no walk in the park. Imagine juggling kids’ activities, a tough job, and grief—that’s my life.
Losing my husband young meant becoming everything for my little ones.
It’s hard, but it’s my reality…
My late husband Michael was the love of my life.
One day he was here, the next he was gone.
It’s been eight years now, but some days it feels like two minutes. It’s like a punch to the gut every time I think about it, but I can’t afford to dwell.
I’ve got three little firecrackers who are my universe.
My mornings start at 5 AM.
I wake up, not because I want to, but because if I don’t, the whole day falls apart.
It’s exhausting, but it’s my life.
And despite everything, I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Because when they look at me with those big eyes and call me “Mom,” it makes all the chaos worth it.
So, that’s me. Just Geraldine, doing my best to keep my little world spinning.
Thankfully, my parents were there, stepping in whenever they could.
But let’s face it, raising three kids is a full-time gig, and I knew I needed to be the one providing that stability.
Luckily, I had a good head on my shoulders.
I’d gotten a degree in accounting before the kids came along, so at least I had a decent job that paid the bills. Every penny counted, though.
Forget fancy vacations or nights out on the town. My priority was making sure my kids had everything they needed: clothes on their backs, food in their bellies, and a chance to chase their dreams.
That’s why I started squirreling away money for college as soon as they were old enough to understand piggy banks.
Then, just recently, my world got turned upside down again.
Thomas, my younger brother, crashed into the picture with this sheepish grin and a request that made my jaw drop.
“Hey Gerry,” he started, fiddling with his thumbs.
“So, there’s this thing…”
We were sitting in the living room, the remnants of reheated pasta and a sprinkle of Parmesan scattered across our plates.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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