On My Mother's Funeral, My Wife Betrayed Me

The day before my mother's funeral. My wife, Lucy Monroe, told me she was sending a colleague back home.

"Honey, I already promised him that and it would be wrong to break my promise. Don't worry, I'll be back tomorrow for Mom's funeral."

That night, I called her, but it was her childhood sweetheart who answered, "Lucy is tired from driving and is sleeping now. Is everything okay?"

I was silent for a moment, then said, "Nothing."

The next day, I got a call from Lucy.

"Honey, today is Charlie's mother's 80th birthday. She's my godmother and it wouldn't be nice if I didn't go. Please postpone Mom's funeral for a few days until I get back."

I said, "Okay."

But it wasn't about waiting for her to come back to hold Mom's funeral, it was about a divorce.

——

My mother's funeral went on as scheduled. I was busy all by myself. From unpacking the coffin, transporting the body, to the funeral, I personally handled every step. Today was Mom's last day on earth and I couldn't make any mistakes.

The guests offered their condolences and offered me their condolences. My uncles were furious knowing that Lucy didn't attend the funeral. They dragged me to her parents' home to ask how her parents raised their daughter.

But I stopped them immediately. Because there was no need to do so.

This morning, I saw Lucy's Instagram post. She was busy with Charlie's mother's 80th birthday celebration and her mind clearly somewhere else. She was there in body, not in spirit. It would have been better not to come.

I could have completed my mother's funeral alone. Looking at my mother's photo on the tombstone, I knew that this world had lost someone who loved me so selflessly.

After my mother's funeral, I immediately sent Lucy a message.

[Mom's funeral is over, all is well.]

Lucy didn't reply. Maybe she didn't even see it. Or maybe she saw it and didn't know how to respond. I didn’t know the answer either. But it didn’t matter anymore.

I found a law firm, asking about the divorce details and then entrusted the lawyer to handle it.

As soon as I got home, I received a video from Lucy. The video was packed with people, lively and cheerful, everyone's face beaming with joy.

Her phone rang, her voice excited, "Honey, you saw that! It's her 80th birthday, quite a long life."

I hummed.

She added, "It's a shame Mom's gone. Otherwise, I'd have given her a grand celebration for her 80th birthday."

My heart ached. Yes, mom had gone. So how could a funeral for the dead compare to an 80th birthday for a living person?

Romance at the proposal, sweetness after marriage. Lucy and I had been together for seven years. The seven-year itch, as expected.

Lucy began to become irritable and angry, losing her temper for no reason. Sometimes she'd skip meals for a whole day over trivial matters.

I always indulged her, coaxed her and gave in to her. No matter how harsh her words or how extreme her actions, I endured them.

One day, Charlie appeared beside her, becoming very close and intimate with her. My mother once asked her about this, but she flew into a rage, smashing many things around the house and yelling that she didn't believe her. But my mother was just asking, not accusing her for cheating on me.

That night, she cried heartbrokenly. For the first time, I felt resentful of Lucy. She had forgotten how kind my mother had been to her when we first got married, treating her like her own daughter.

When my mother was sick and hospitalized, she didn't even visit once. I figured if she didn't want to go, then she didn't have to; I could take care of my mother on my own.

I worked, cared for her and coaxed her all at the same time. Every day was exhausting. But I figured that once the seven-year itch was over, hoping we could get back together. I endured it all. I made it through.

But my mother didn't. And I finally realized my initial assumptions were wrong. Lucy and I would never be the same again.

The day before my mother's funeral, she left.

The next day, she called and asked me to postpone it. The reason was actually to attend Charlie's mother's 80th birthday.

How could the dead matter be less important the living?

How ridiculous.

She had completely forgotten the phrase "the dead deserved respect."

Not to mention, she was my mother's daughter-in-law.

I so hoped that after receiving my message, she would realize her mistake and rush back immediately. Instead, she didn't reply at all and instead sent a picture of my junior's mother's 80th birthday.

At that moment, my heart completely sank.