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.
Son Sees His Old Mother’s Will and Orders Her to Pack Her Stuff Immediately — Story of the Day
A son discovers his mother’s will and what he reads in it makes him tell her to pack her bags immediately and get ready to leave his house.
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Gerald Nizbit stared at the text on his screen in astonishment, then he picked up the phone. “Helen,” he said crisply to his assistant. “Get me my lawyer on the phone, then Margaret Pratt, then my mother — in that order!”
Helen had been Gerald’s personal assistant for ten years, and she knew he wasn’t a particularly patient man, so she immediately started calling his attorney. In his office, Gerald was staring at the screen and shaking his head in disbelief. Oh, he was going to pay her back for this!
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Unsplash
Finally, Helen managed to get hold of the lawyer and put him through. “Sam,” said Gerald crisply. “Old boy, I just wanted to advise you that you committed a faux pas! You sent me my mother’s will for approval instead of sending it to her.”
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On the other side of the line, the lawyer blustered his apologies and embarrassment, but Gerald had said what he wanted to say so he quickly dismissed him and hung up. He sat staring out of his huge floor-to-ceiling window at the snowy New York skyline until the phone rang again.
This time it was Margaret Pratt. Gerald outlined his requirements succinctly, and told her, “I want it for today, Miss Pratt.” He listened to her objecting on the other side of the line then interjected.
“If you can’t get it sorted, I’ll go to someone who can.” The response on the other side of the line made him smile grimly. “This afternoon then, at 17:00,” he said and hung up.
He picked up the internal phone. “Helen, you can get me my mother now,” he said.
Within seconds, the ever-efficient Helen was patching through Mrs. Edith Nezbit. “Mother!” Gerald said. “Have two things to tell you. First of all Sam Kelson sent me your new will by mistake…and I want you to pack your bags immediately.”
Sitting in the lounge of Gerald’s gorgeous house where she lived with him Edith was speechless. “Gerald…Are you upset about the will? Please let me explain…”
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For illustration purposes only. | Source: Unsplash
True value is what is attributed by the heart.
“I don’t need your explanations, Mother, I need you to have your bags packed and be ready to leave by 16:00,” Gerald said, and hung up. Edith sat there with her heart pounding. She’d thought Gerald would understand!
He was the youngest of her three children, and the one who’d always stood by her, helped her through the difficulties of life, and when Edith’s arthritis threatened to cripple her this last year, even though she was only 62, had taken her home to live with him.
Edith went upstairs to her room and packed her bags. Yes, she’d left all her money to her two older children, but she honestly thought Gerald would understand. Edith stared at her suitcase with tears blurring her vision.
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She had hurt her most beloved and kindest child! She had to explain! Edith called Gerald’s housekeeper to help her with her suitcase and went downstairs to wait anxiously for Gerald.
At 16:00 there he was, punctual as ever. He walked in, gave her a brief peck on the cheek and Edith cried, “Please Gerald. let me explain!”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Unsplash
“I don’t have time for explanations, Mother. Come,” he said. “Everything is arranged.” He picked up Edith’s bag and carried it out to his car and put it in his trunk. Edith got into the car without a word.
Gerald drove without saying a word. “Where are we going, Gerald?” Edith asked, but Gerald chose that exact moment to turn on the radio and didn’t answer her. Edith looked around. She’d never been to this part of the city before…
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“Listen, Gerald, about the will…” Edith said bravely.
“Oh, the will!” said Gerald, glancing over at his mother and frowning. “The will in which you leave your house and $120,000 in savings to be divided between Amy and Oliver, and I get the old cabin by the lake and grandfather’s photos from the war, and dad’s watch?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Unsplash
“Yes…” whispered Edith. “You see…” But right then Gerald stopped the car. They had arrived at what appeared to be a small private airport, and a sleek private jet was waiting.
Gerald turned to Edith, and there were tears in his eyes. “Oh, mom, I understand about the house and the money. Amy and Oliver are struggling and I have more money than I could ever spend.
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“But what you are leaving me, mom, shows me how well you understand me. You know exactly what is important to me and close to my heart. I have all the money I need but the memories you are giving me are precious!”
“But Gerald…” gasped Edith. “I thought you were kicking me out!”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Unsplash
Gerald grinned. “No such luck! I’m taking you to Tahiti for two weeks. I think it would do your arthritis the world of good, and I could use some quality time with my mom!”
Edith embraced her youngest — and secretly her favorite son, with tears in her eyes. He’d understood! Edith knew that her father and her husband’s keepsakes would be cherished and passed on lovingly by Gerald.
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The two spent a lovely time in Tahiti, and Gerald got himself a tan and even met a lovely girl who was also on vacation and came from New York and it looked to Edith like maybe she wouldn’t have to wait too long for those grandchildren after all!
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
What can we learn from this story?
- Don’t judge people’s intentions by your own fears. Edith was afraid her son would be angry over her will so she thought he was throwing her out.
- True value is what is attributed by the heart not what something costs. For Gerald, the photos, the watch, and the old cabin were more precious than millions of dollars.
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