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.
Sissy Spacek at 74: Fans Can’t Stop Praising Her Incredible Looks
Sissy Spacek is best known for her role as the scary telekinetic teenager in Carrie (1976), where her big moment at prom has her covered in pig’s blood.
At that time, she was a beautiful 27-year-old off-screen, and she was so convincing in her scary role that fans still say, “she terrifies me to this day.”
While her character might bring up feelings of fear, fans are now praising the 74-year-old actress for aging naturally and not looking “weird from plastic surgery.”
keep reading to see what fans are saying about this talented Hollywood star!
Sissy Spacek was born Mary Elizabeth and grew up in a small town in Texas. She chased around her two older brothers, who called her “Sissy.”
Now, at 74, she is known all over the world and is likely best remembered for her Oscar-nominated role in Carrie, based on Stephen King’s story.
While filming Carrie, Spacek shared that she fully embraced her character by not brushing her teeth or her hair.
“I wanted to feel really bad about myself,” Spacek explained. “There’s nothing like not washing your face or brushing your teeth in the morning. I put Vaseline in my hair, and that made me feel really low. And that helped me get into character,” she told CBS.
In one of the scariest scenes ever, Carrie, who everyone thinks is dead, makes one last appearance at the end. Her bloody arm reaches out from her grave, grabbing the hand of a former classmate.
Speaking with NPR about her career, Spacek – whose cousin was the late Rip Torn – said she loved the fear factor of that scene: “I would go to theaters just to see the last five minutes of the film and watch everyone jump out of their seats.” She continued, “The film ends about eight times, as (director Brian De Palma) said. People get relaxed, the music is really nice and calming, and then suddenly that scene happens, and people just go wild.”
After several praised performances in other films, Spacek, who originally wanted to be a singer, was cast in her Oscar-winning role as Loretta Lynn in Coal Miner’s Daughter, where she sang songs made famous by the country star. Spacek also received a Grammy nomination for Best Country Vocal Performance.
Happy birthday, Sissy Spacek! The Oscar-winning actress turns 66 today. https://t.co/5T0dDF5jCK #Carrie #hbd pic.twitter.com/AdiKJo88ot
— IMDb (@IMDb) December 26, 2015
The star of The Help has played many roles, from a telekinetic teen to a killer’s love interest, a homewrecker, a single mom, and about 200 other characters, winning numerous awards, including three Golden Globes, over her more than 50 years of acting.
Throughout those 50 years, fans have watched her grow from a messy high schooler to a beautiful, mature woman.
In 2022, Schuyler was asked to take on her mother’s famous role in a new Carrie remake, but she said no, explaining that it “just didn’t feel like the right thing for so many reasons.”
“I feel like Carrie is such an epic film as it is. So, the idea of trying to do anything else to recreate it just didn’t feel necessary,” she said.
Beautiful mama Sissy’
In an Instagram post shared on March 12, 2024, Schuyler wrote, “It’s hard to sum up how special this was for me.” She talked about her excitement from “cheering on” her dad and being at the Academy Awards with her mom and sister.
Fans showed their joy at seeing the whole family together: “Wow. What a special moment in time. There’s nothing better than celebrating your people!”
One fan shared, “How extremely special!! You all look amazing! This is beautiful…all of you. Inside out.” Another fan wrote, “Absolutely stunning! The all-around best!”
Other fans praised Spacek and admired her beauty. One said, “And your beautiful mama Sissy, my favorite actress, iconic and legendary and one of the BEST ever.” Another added, “Sissy, you still look fabulous.”
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