commented on Three Divorces and a Funeral
2017-10-28 12:53:59 -0700
Today is my husband’s birthday. I’ve invited my stepson (his son) and his 2 children to come and celebrate together. My plan is to make an ugly cake with them, enjoy being together remembering my husband, his father and their grampa. He would have been 74 today. Happy Birthday, Bob. He isn’t here. He never will be again. All we have is the love , the memories, the stuff of his life. If this had been a divorce, at least his son and grandchildren would have him physically here to honor and celebrate together.
And please, don’t treat me like you have your ex-wife. Don’t slew your anger over your broken marriage at me. Don’t disrespect me if I don’t settle my late husband’s Estate (which is mine, too) in a span of time that meets your selfish needs, wants and desires. If I don’t have the cash, I can’t give it to you. And don’t even go there with the fact that my late husband (of 33 years) earned more money over the years of our marriage, which you seem to think entitles you to a large share of his cash and retirement. It’s community property for us, not you. You don’t inherit half because you came from his sperm. Don’t call me a liar—that my estate attorney and my financial advisor and I are working to find a way to cheat you out of what your father bequeathed to you in his Will. Even if I don’t like your father’s choice, I respect and honor his wishes. I’ve never lied to you. I’ve always respected you. I don’t anymore. You (and your equally selfish, self-centered sister) pushed me and my loyalty to you to the point where I no longer give a damn. I’ve kept my honesty, my integrity, intact, unlike you and your sister. Words DO hurt. So, no, your divorce is not like the death of my spouse, my husband. Don’t even dare to compare the two. Had you arrived home that fateful day to find your spouse dead on the couch—absolutely unexpectedly—your attempts at CPR futile, yet you kept on pumping because you would not give up.
So, YES. I like this post. It came on a day that I’m celebrating what would have been his 74th birthday and I will bake that ugly cake with our grandchildren; his son will be here, but I really don’t give a damn.