“Oh, Debbie.......”

My niece Debbie, who just recently turned 46, is getting a divorce from her husband of almost 22 years.
I don’t know all the gory details, or even care, but supposedly they will remain friends.
Their only child, Christina, continues to live with her mother, and I guess her husband lives somewhere else, perhaps with a new girlfriend.
Debbie is apparently seeing someone else, a guy in his 60s who is married.
This was revealed to me in a fusillade of noisy announcements by Christina, meant to make me pass judgment, and thereby embarrass Debbie.
But I can’t, other than worry about such an arrangement exploding in Debbie’s face.
I wonder about why I don’t fall into lower-register “Oh, Debbie” wailing, like her grandmother or great-aunt, deceased, might.
Her mother doesn’t seem so inclined either, or perhaps she just feels powerless.
Debbie lives with her mother, and I suspect this might be part of why her husband walked out.
I wonder why I don’t seem able to pass judgment, why I don’t hit her with my two cents.
I began to wonder if not passing judgment was endemic to my generation — which her mother is also part of.
—Like who am I to judge?
Prior generations were all-too-happy to judge. I was “of-the-Devil” and “despicable.” This was despite the Biblical admonition to “judge not.” And many of my judges were Bible-beaters.
So here I am, supposedly offering solace and advice to Debbie — she’ll take it — when I can’t pass judgment.
How am I supposed to provide roots when I don’t have any?
All I can do is hope this doesn’t explode in her face, and be there if it does.
My sister, also deceased, carried the values of my Bible-beating father like an albatross. She HAD to be married; it could be no other way. She married four times; fortunately her last was pretty good.
I don’t have values like that with which I can judge Debbie.
I just want her to be happy, and my passing judgment won’t prompt that.