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.
After Years of Struggle, This ‘Brady Bunch’ Star’s Stunning New Look Will Amaze You
People online are amazed by a former TV star who has embraced aging gracefully. Even after facing issues with substance abuse and body image, she still shines with her natural beauty. Here’s a look at how she appears today, having overcome many challenges.
The actress is well-known for playing Marcia Brady on the ABC show “The Brady Bunch,” which aired from 1969 to 1974. Life after the show was difficult for her, but she has since made a strong comeback and looks better than ever.
While on the popular sitcom, the actress became a teen idol and won the hearts of millions across the country. When the Brady Kids ventured into music, her singing talent shone through and caught the eye of many producers.
After the show ended, she received a recording contract but chose to turn it down in favor of a more ordinary life. In a 2008 interview, she reflected on her choice, saying, “Actually, I’ve always regretted that. I think it would’ve been interesting to see where it would’ve gone. Could’ve, would’ve…”
Her time on “The Brady Bunch,” alongside Florence Henderson, was not easy behind the scenes. The actress shared that her role as Marcia stayed with her even after the show ended, and she faced personal struggles while playing the character.
“For most of my life, I have been followed by Marcia Brady. Imagine always being shadowed by a younger, prettier, more popular version of yourself. I played Marcia for five years. She was perfect. I was anything but. There was a lot happening behind my fake smile,” the former child star shared in an honest interview.
She faced challenges with drug addiction, including cocaine. During the Summer Spectacular event in September 2017, which supported the Brent Shapiro Foundation for Drug Prevention, she explained why this cause is so important to her.
“I struggled with drug addiction for about six or seven years, and it was awful,” she recalled. She also shared that by that time, she had been sober for 35 years and that her life had never been better.
She believes her partying lifestyle impacted her acting in some roles after “The Brady Bunch.” The actress admitted that she missed out on opportunities, sharing that there were times when she was under the influence, which became a serious problem.
“I’m sure everyone in the industry at the time knew that I was flaking out,” she said in a September 2018 interview. When the actress returned to Taft High for her senior year, she had a hard time concentrating on her studies.
Friends introduced her to white crosses—pills that helped her stay awake and reduced the anxiety she felt after leaving her role as a Brady. She also used them in an attempt to lose weight, always believing she was just a few pounds away from happiness.
The family woman shared that, as a good judge of character, she felt he was trustworthy from the moment they met, as if she could see into his soul. McCormick views their marriage as one of her greatest achievements.
Maureen McCormick’s journey through fame, personal struggles, and self-discovery is an inspiring example of resilience and growth. By accepting her imperfections and sharing her story, she continues to impact many lives, encouraging others to talk about their challenges.
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