Losing my mother was terrible, but seeing how my husband reacted was even worse. John decided to go on vacation to Hawaii instead of being there for me, so I had to go to the funeral by myself. His goals were very clear: a trip that I couldn’t cancel was more important to him than my grief.
The days before the funeral were a blur of making plans and feeling sad. John’s distance was clear, and his efforts to comfort her didn’t seem to work. When he told me to take a sleeping pill to deal with my feelings, I understood that our marriage had been in a deep sleep for years.
John’s Instagram posts from Hawaii, where he was drinking cocktails at sunset and saying that he had found paradise, made my feelings worse. People sent me sympathy and casseroles that I couldn’t even eat while I buried my mother by myself.
I felt like something inside me broke. I called my friend Sarah, a real estate agent, and told her to put our house on the market, along with John’s beloved Porsche. He would never forget the wake-up call the open house gave him.
As many people came to look at our house, John’s face turned bright red. He asked, “What’s going on?” with wide-open eyes.
I slowly sipped my coffee. “The house is up for sale.” “And the car.”
John’s pleas and efforts to scare buyers away only made me more determined. It wasn’t punishment; it was a way to stay alive.
As soon as the chaos stopped, I made my point clear: “Next time, it won’t be a fake listing.” When John’s eyes dropped, I saw a sign of understanding for the first time.
He started with, “Edith, I…”
That’s not what I need, John. I need a partner. That’s not enough; you need to recognize my grief as well.
John’s road to empathy was shaky at first, but he started going to therapy. Even if they are small, they are still important.
When I’m alone, I remember my mom telling me, “That’s my girl.” Don’t let them see you sweat; instead, put up a “For Sale” sign.
Her knowledge lives on: she knew when to give up and when to keep going even when it was hard. Even though our marriage isn’t perfect, I’ve learned to see my own strengths.
John is still growing, but I can see signs that he might be a good partner who is willing to listen and try. Still, I’ll take those first few steps and remember the lessons my mother taught me.
