At first, it was fine. I cooked, helped with homework, folded laundry, soothed the children after bad dreams, and kept the house running while Mark and Laura worked long hours. Laura never thanked me, but I didn’t expect her to. She was busy, stretched thin, and navigating the pressures of her job at a law firm.
But gradually, certain comments started creeping in.
“Helen, could you please not fold Mark’s shirts like that?”
“Helen, the house feels cluttered lately.”
I brushed it off. Laura was stressed, and I reminded myself to be patient. Mark, my sweet boy, always made me feel valued. At night, after the kids were asleep, he would sit at the kitchen table with me, rub the back of his neck, and say, “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Mom.”
And the children—oh, they were my sunshine. Dance parties in the kitchen, pillow forts, cookies that came out crooked but made us laugh until our sides hurt. Those moments made me feel alive again.
But Laura saw it differently. She started arriving home earlier, correcting the children midsentence, stepping between us during story time. She would stand in the doorway with her arms crossed, watching us dance, and say, “Life isn’t supposed to be all fun.”
I began to feel like a guest overstaying her welcome.
When Loss Hit Hard
Then came the call that broke everything.Continue reading…
