One afternoon, while working on a project with another engineer, he casually boasted about his iPad.
“I don’t think I can ever spend $600 on an iPad for myself,” I murmured.
“Why not?” he asked.
“I’d rather buy it for someone else,” I replied. “A smartphone and a laptop are more than enough for me.”
He pressed further, “Do you have kids?”
I hesitated. “Yes… no. My siblings are like my children. I actually bought an iPad for my brother.”
Perplexed, he walked off to share this revelation with others, stunned that someone could love their siblings as if they were her own children.
Quietly, I thought, I can hardly believe it myself.

Though I don’t yet have children of my own, I feel as maternal toward Eric, Alice, and Noella as if I had given birth to them. Every joy that parents boast about, I understand.
When I shop — which is rare — I find myself imagining how a cute purse would suit Alice or Noella, or how the latest tech would thrill Eric, whose mind naturally dances with electronics.
Of course, I buy what I need too — but only after my “children” are taken care of.

When the iPhone 4 launched in 2010, I asked my siblings for permission to buy one for myself.
It was a $200 luxury — modest by many standards, yet it felt extravagant.
Each of them already had smartphones I’d gifted them, but even so, I struggled with the decision. Their emotional, overwhelming support in that moment remains etched in my memory.
I realized then, I wasn’t just a big sister — I had grown into a mother, with a heart wide enough to mirror the love of the mother we lost too soon.

Eric, Alice, and Noella are the best answered prayer of my life.
They are my crown, my living treasures.
One day, if I have children of my own, that love will be new — but it will never replace what I share with them.
Unlike legal or biological obligations, the love I carry for my siblings is voluntary — a sacred inheritance from my parents, now in heaven.
I love them not because I must, but because my soul cannot do otherwise.

Jean Eric, Alice & Noella

Their happiness quickens my heart; their success fills me with pride beyond words.
Their love has mended my brokenness.
The hardest choice I ever made was living far away from them, but I would choose their well-being over mine a thousand times again.

If love means putting others first without expecting anything in return, then let me spend my life learning to love better.

“Above all, keep loving one another earnestly, since love covers a multitude of sins” 1 Peter 4:8