Two years ago, my wife, Anna, left me and our twins, Max and Lily, the day after I lost my job. I still remember the sight of her by the door, a single suitcase in her hand, her face devoid of emotion, her voice flat as steel:
“I can’t do this anymore.” The woman who had once been the glue holding our small family together was suddenly gone.
Overnight, I became a single dad, faced with two bewildered four-year-olds who didn’t understand why Mommy had vanished, and a mountain of bills that seemed impossible to climb.
The first year after her departure was pure survival. I worked tirelessly, taking on two jobs: delivering groceries during the day and driving for a rideshare company at night.
I slept only when my body forced me to, and even then, sleep was restless and filled with dreams of failure and loss. The twins cried for their mother every night.
I tried to comfort them, telling little white lies: “Mommy will come back soon,” even though I knew in my heart that the words weren’t true. My parents helped whenever they could, but even with their support, the loneliness was overwhelming. Continue reading…