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.
A single mom with four kids buys a used car, and the owner tells her to check the trunk when she gets home — and the story Begins .
Desperate for work, Jennifer accepted the job even though it meant traveling to a different city every day. She thanked the HR manager and headed home, where she told her kids she had finally found a job. After spending almost $30 on the cab ride, Jennifer realized she couldn’t afford to commute like that every day. It would be better to have her own car, but she didn’t have the money to buy one. She decided her best option was to buy a used car. She found one but wondered if the owner would agree to sell it for a lower price. “Would you be able to sell this car for $5,000? I’m a single mom with four kids,” she asked.
She explained that it had been hard for her to make money as a single mom of four, and she needed a car to take a job in a nearby city. When the owner heard about her situation, he agreed to sell the car for $5,000. “If you can buy the car by tomorrow, I’ll sell it to you for $5,000,” he said. Jennifer was very grateful for the lower price. She tried to get a loan from the bank to buy the car the next day, but her bad credit caused the loan to be rejected immediately.
Running out of options, Jennifer thought hard about what to do next. She couldn’t move to a new city because her oldest child, Ethan, had just started school near their trailer park. Also, rent in the nearby city was much higher, and she couldn’t take the trailer with her. She really needed a car to get to work and pick up her children from school and daycare. Then she remembered the gold chain necklace her late mother had left her, which had been in the family for generations. Even though it made her sad, Jennifer knew she had to sell it to buy the car and provide for her children.
She took the necklace to a pawnshop and said, “I’m sorry, Mom. I really need to do this right now.” The necklace was valued at $5,500, which made Jennifer happy because it was enough to buy the car and have some money left for daily needs. The next day, she went back to the car dealership and gave the owner, Jeff, an envelope with $5,000. “Thank you for agreeing to sell this to me. You have no idea how much this will help me and my children,” she said.
Jeff smiled and said, “Congratulations on your car. This is a great purchase.” While Jennifer was signing the paperwork, Jeff quietly put something in the trunk of the car. As she was about to drive home, he called out, “By the way, check the trunk when you get home. I left something for your children inside.” Jennifer was so busy commuting to work and taking care of her children that she forgot to check the trunk until she found a note in the glove compartment. The note said, “I hope you and your children like the gift I left in the trunk. May it be of great help to you.”
Curious, Jennifer opened the trunk and was confused at first when she saw only a white envelope. Then she realized it was the same envelope she had used to pay for the car. Inside, she found the $5,000 untouched. Overwhelmed by the man’s kindness, Jennifer drove back to the dealership after work to thank Jeff. He told her, “Life throws challenges at you, and it’s up to you to either overcome them or give in. I’m proud of you for staying strong for your children, and I thought you could use the money more than I could. Just remember to pay it forward.”
Leave a Reply