I thought my husband would be there for me when my mom passed away, but instead, he chose a vacation to Hawaii over my grief. Devastated, I faced the funeral alone. But when he returned, he walked into a situation he never expected—a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget. I was at work when the doctor’s number flashed on my phone, and somehow, I knew what was coming. My heart sank even before I answered. Mom was gone. Just like that. One minute she was fighting a minor lung infection, and the next… nothing. My world stopped making sense.
I don’t remember much after that. One moment I was sitting in my cubicle, and the next I was home, fumbling with my keys, eyes blurred with tears. John’s car was in the driveway, another one of his “work-from-home” days, which usually meant ESPN muted in the background while he pretended to answer emails.“John?” My voice echoed through the house. “I need you.” He stepped into the kitchen, holding a coffee mug, looking mildly annoyed. “What’s wrong? You look terrible.” I tried to speak, but the words got tangled in my throat. I reached out to him, desperate for comfort. He sighed and gave me a quick, awkward pat on the back, like he was consoling a distant acquaintance. “My mom… she died, John. Mom’s gone.” His grip tightened for a moment. “Oh, wow. That’s… I’m sorry.” Then, just as quickly, he pulled away. “Do you want me to order takeout?
Maybe Thai?” I nodded, numb. The next day, reality hit hard. There was so much to handle—planning the funeral, notifying family, and dealing with a lifetime of memories. As I sat at the kitchen table, buried in lists, I remembered our planned vacation. “John, we’ll need to cancel Hawaii,” I said, looking up from my phone. “The funeral will probably be next week, and—” “Cancel?”
He lowered his newspaper, frowning. “Edith, those tickets were non-refundable. We’d lose a lot of money. Besides, I’ve already booked my golf games.” I stared at him, stunned. “John, my mother just died.” He folded the newspaper with the kind of precision that told me he was more irritated than concerned. “I get that you’re upset, but funerals are for family. I’m just your husband—your cousins won’t even notice I’m not there. You can handle things here, and you know I’m not great with emotional stuff.” It felt like I’d been punched in the gut. “Just my husband?” “You know what I mean,” he muttered, avoiding my gaze and adjusting his tie. “Besides, someone should use those tickets. You can text me if you need anything.” I felt like I was seeing him clearly for the first time in 15 years of marriage. The week that followed was a blur. John occasionally offered a stiff pat on the shoulder or suggested I watch a comedy to lift my mood. But when the day of the funeral came, he was on a plane to Hawaii, posting Instagram stories of sunsets and cocktails. “#LivingMyBestLife,” one caption read. Meanwhile, I buried my mother alone on a rainy Thursday. That night, sitting in an empty house, surrounded by untouched sympathy casseroles, something snapped inside me. I had spent years making excuses for John’s emotional absence. “He’s just not a feelings person,” I would say. “He shows his love in other ways.” But I was done pretending.I called my friend Sarah, a realtor. “Can you list the house for me? Oh, and include John’s Porsche in the deal.” “His Porsche? Eddie, he’ll lose it!” “That’s the point.” The next morning, “potential buyers” started showing up. I sat in the kitchen, sipping coffee, watching as they circled John’s beloved car. When his Uber finally pulled into the driveway, I couldn’t help but smile. It was showtime. John stormed in, face flushed. “Edith, what the hell? People are asking about my car!” “Oh, that. I’m selling the house. The Porsche is a great bonus, don’t you think?”He sputtered, pulling out his phone. “This is insane! I’ll call Sarah right now!” “Go ahead,” I said sweetly. “Maybe you can tell her about your fabulous vacation. How was the beach?” Realization slowly dawned across his face. “This… is this some kind of payback? Did I do something wrong?” I stood, letting my anger finally surface. “You abandoned me when I needed you most. I’m just doing what you do: looking out for myself. After all, I’m just your wife, right?” John spent the next hour frantically trying to shoo away buyers, while begging me to reconsider. By the time Sarah texted that her friends had run out of patience, I let him off the hook—sort of. “Fine. I won’t sell the house or the car.” I paused. “This time.” He sagged with relief. “Thank you, Edith. I—” I held up my hand. “But things are going to change. I needed my husband, and you weren’t there. You’re going to start acting like a partner, or next time, the For Sale sign will be real.” He looked ashamed, finally understanding the gravity of his actions. “What can I do to make this right?” “You can start by showing up. Be a partner, not a roommate. I lost my mother, John. That kind of grief isn’t something you can fix with a vacation or a fancy dinner.” He nodded. “I don’t know how to be the man you need, but I love you, and I want to try.” It’s not perfect now. John still struggles with emotions, but he’s going to therapy, and last week, for the first time, he asked me how I was feeling about Mom. He listened while I talked about how much I missed her calls and how I sometimes still reach for the phone, only to remember she’s not there. He even opened up a little about his own feelings. It’s progress. Baby steps. I often wonder what Mom would say about all this. I can almost hear her chuckling, shaking her head. “That’s my girl,” she’d say. “Never let them see you sweat. Just show them the ‘For Sale’ sign instead.” Because if there’s one thing she taught me, it’s that strength comes in many forms. Sometimes it’s pushing through the pain, and sometimes it’s knowing when to push back.
Shannen Doherty prepares for her death by selling possessions she doesn’t need
Shannen Doherty has recently provided an update on her health journey during an episode of her podcast. The renowned actress, known for her role in “Charmed,” has been battling stage 4 breast cancer since 2019. In the April 1 episode of “Let’s Be Clear,” she candidly discussed her preparations for the possibility of death by letting go of many of her material possessions. Doherty has been cleaning out her storage units to make things easier for her family, especially her mother, in the event of her passing. She emphasized that her current priority is her mother and expressed her desire to minimize the burden on her by reducing the amount of belongings she leaves behind. By donating and selling off her extra possessions, particularly furniture, she aims to alleviate the workload her mother would face. Doherty, who is now 52 years old, wants to ensure that her mother doesn’t have to deal with the challenge of managing four storage units filled with furniture. She also mentioned a recent trip to her Tennessee home where she made the difficult decision to let go of her aspirations of fostering horses on the property.
Upon reflection, Doherty shared her emotional journey of packing up and shedding tears as she grappled with the idea of giving up on a dream. She questioned whether this meant giving up on life itself or simply throwing in the towel. Her mother’s reassurance that she didn’t have to let go of the place gave her the strength to continue. However, upon returning to the property and realizing the extensive repairs needed, she found it easier to release it. Doherty acknowledged that while parting ways with something significant can be heartbreaking, it can also bring a sense of peace and tranquility. She emphasized that the challenging work she’s undertaking now will ultimately benefit her loved ones by facilitating a smoother transition. This process prompted her to contemplate the value of material possessions.
Throughout the process, Doherty has come to the realization that the money she makes from selling some of her belongings can be used in more meaningful ways.
“I have the opportunity to create new memories and share experiences with my loved ones,” she expressed. “I can treat my mom to vacations because I have extra spending money available, without having to dip into my savings that will secure the future of everyone in my life once I’m gone,” she added.
During a recent episode of her podcast on January 29, Doherty mentioned that she was responding positively to a new type of cancer treatment, referring to the results as a “miracle,” although she did not disclose the specific medication she was undergoing.
“After undergoing four treatments without much improvement, everyone suggested I switch, but I decided to persist and see how it goes,” Doherty shared during her conversation with her radiation oncologist, Dr. Amin Mirhadi.
Following the sixth or seventh treatment, significant progress was observed in breaking down the blood-brain barrier. Describing it as a miracle, the actor expressed, “It feels like a miracle to me at this moment. It was like I took a chance and decided to continue.” In 2023, Doherty disclosed that her cancer had metastasized to her brain and bones. Typically, even potent chemotherapy struggles to breach the blood-brain barrier and target brain tumors, as stated by Northwestern Medicine.
Referring to the new treatment’s effectiveness, she mentioned, “It’s like a miracle, maybe God intervened and decided to give me a break.” Doherty emphasized the importance of recognizing miracles that may be right in front of us, rather than searching in the wrong places.
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