I’ll never forget watching my husband Kyle pack his swim trunks the day before my mother’s funeral. “You’ll be fine,” he said, kissing my forehead. “Funerals aren’t really my thing anyway.” As the door closed behind him, I realized our marriage had been as hollow as his excuses.
While Kyle posted beach selfies with #LivingMyBestLife, I buried the woman who worked double shifts to put me through college. When he returned tanned and relaxed, I was waiting with my own surprise – a “For Sale” sign in our yard and a car enthusiast inspecting his beloved vintage Mustang.
“Consider it a marital reset,” I told his panicked face. The Mustang wasn’t actually for sale (though our marriage might be). That moment of terror was the first time Kyle truly saw me since Mom died. Now he’s learning what partnership really means – showing up during life’s hardest moments, not just the Instagrammable ones.
