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.
Why Michael Jackson Wore Smaller Clothes at the End of His Shows (and 8 More Revelations About His Costumes)
Michael Jackson was a picky dresser, and he wanted to stand out. That’s why his costumes had a lot of details that made everyone wonder why they were there and what they meant. For example, almost every jacket Michael Jackson wore had an armband on the right sleeve, and some of his jackets also had “777” sewn onto them.
We at Bright Side are fascinated with Michael Jackson`s wardrobe, and we`re ready to reveal some of the secrets behind his costumes!
1. Why he wore smaller costumes at the end of his shows
Michael Jackson`s dance routines were very physically strenuous, and he gave his all during his performances. By the end of the show, he would often lose up to 5 lbs, and his waist would become one inch thinner. And since it was important that his clothes fit perfectly, so that he could show off his dance moves, every next costume was a bit smaller than the previous one.
2. How his lean shoes worked
Michael Jackson`s shoes that helped him defy the laws of gravity had a V-shaped clasp at the bottom of the heels. With its help, he could hook into a nail attached to the floor and perform his famous 45-degree forward tilt. However, to be able to do that and to keep his whole body straight, an incredible amount of core and leg strength was also needed.
3. Why he only wore one glove
Michael had vitiligo, a skin condition where patches of your skin lose pigment. It started on his hand and he wanted to cover it up. And he thought it would look too ordinary to wear 2 gloves, so he would only wear one.
4. Why almost every jacket had an armband on the right sleeve
Michel Jackson just wanted his clothes to be different from everyone else’s. And having an armband on a sleeve makes your look distinguishable. Michael also liked to make his fans wonder why that armband was there.
5. Why there are 3 № 7s sewn onto his jackets
Michael was the 7th child in his family. Also, he was born in 1958, and if you add 19 plus 58, it equals 77.
6. Why he never polished his shoes
Once, the singer`s managers were concerned about the condition of his shoes and asked his costume designer to polish them. He did it, but it made Michael extremely angry. He explained that the leather was worn off exactly as he needed it to be, and that polishing would make it too slippery for him to perform his dance moves.
7. Why he wore white socks
Michael loved wearing white socks for several reasons. No one else wore white socks with black shoes. Moreover, they would catch the light and attract attention to the movements of his feet when he was dancing.
8. Why he taped his fingers
Hand movements were an important part of Michael Jackson`s dance routines. So he and his costume designers decided to wrap white tape around his fingers in order to attract more light. Michael also decided it would be more unusual to only tape his index, ring, and pinkie fingers. It was also fun for him, because fans would ask why only 3 of his fingers were taped.
When Michael danced, he would unconsciously put his 2 untaped fingers together. And that would also add mysteriousness to his performances, since the fans would think this sign had a secret meaning.
9. What the letters CTE on his jackets stand for
These letters don`t stand for anything. In the 90s, Michael`s costume designers created a few new shirts for him. He liked them, but he wanted to add some letters on the epaulets. He said it didn`t matter which ones, so his costume designers put all of the letters of the alphabet into a hat, and took 3 of them out at random. That`s where the letters “CTE” came from.
Do you think Michael Jackson had great taste in clothes? Is there any costume of his that you like in particular? We`d love to hear your thoughts in the comments!
Preview photo credit Smooth Criminal / Quincy Jones Productions
Leave a Reply