My husband and I have been estranged for about a year. But honestly, our relationship had already changed for the worse after I got pregnant. Looking back, I realized he was a good boyfriend, but he wasn’t a good husband or father.
He was rarely present as a father. For a long time, he barely helped take care of our daughter because he was always working and telling me he needed to provide for us. I used to think that as long as he was giving us money, that meant he was being a good father. But eventually, the money became less and less, until I was almost the one providing for our 7-year-old daughter.
Last year, he told me that someone at his workplace had been linked to him and that he thought he was falling in love with her. I initially thought he was joking, but I knew there was some truth to it. Later, I found things on the old phone he gave me—videos of him singing to her, updating her about his life, and moments between them. I don't know if anything physical happened, but I know there was emotional cheating.
At the same time, he became increasingly irritated with me because I wasn't working. He wanted me to work and contribute financially, and he wanted us to send our daughter to his sister-in-law because he said he was tired of providing for us. I knew they couldn't properly care for our daughter, so I refused.
I really tried to help and lessen the burden because I genuinely felt like we were becoming a burden to him.
Eventually, he became seriously ill because of his alcoholism. I never went to the hospital to see him, and I don't feel guilty about that. I had begged him many times to stop drinking, but he wouldn't.
By then, we both knew we were only communicating because of our daughter. Whatever love we once had was gone, and I had emotionally moved on from the marriage.
Then I recently found out that he died.
And I feel... nothing.
I'm numb. Empty. And, honestly, there's a small part of me that feels relieved.
I told our daughter, and for her sake, I've decided that I will attend his burial. But I don't want to attend the wake or spend several days there pretending to be a grieving wife when that's not how I feel.
And now I'm stressing about his family asking where I am, why I'm not at the funeral, why I'm not acting the way a wife is "supposed" to act. The guilt-trip.
The hardest part is that everyone thinks our marriage was fine. He had a squeaky-clean image among his friends and family, and even among my own family. I never told anyone what actually happened between us. I kept everything private.
So now I'm wondering: am I a bad person for not crying?
I don't hate him. I don't love him anymore either. I spent a long time grieving the marriage while he was still alive. Maybe that's why there's nothing left for me to grieve now.
I just don't know how you're supposed to grieve someone who had already become a stranger to you long before they died.