So many refinements went by the wayside. We don't make peach compote like Martha Stewart teaches us with a big glob of whipped cream so that the entire family sighs 'ahhhhh' and relishes coming home for the next meal, and seeks excuses to eat at home, rather than touch what their friends' mothers throw in a microwave. And fail to do those loving pinching, compote assembling things just once, then you've got a failure habit. Soon hubby is not watching his figure as no one else is, and the kids don't come home for dinner as micro-waving at their pals house works for them. And then they move out.
Husbands sometimes leave, as well.
Having NO family is hearing the crickets on warm summer nights when the patio barbecue just sits there outside, full of charcoal dust. Having no family is e-mails to your kids in other cities who are too busy with their lives to answer. But that isn't family. Family is noise every night, not silence where you hear crickets harping, from sunset 'til dawn. Family is you organizing for an hour so you can paint a picture they all admire.