The roar of the airplane engines faded into the background as I stepped off the plane, two tired toddlers clinging to my legs. I scanned the crowd, expecting to see Tom, my husband, his familiar smile a welcome sight after a long flight. But he wasn’t there.
I called him, my heart sinking with each unanswered ring. Finally, he picked up, his voice casual, almost breezy. “Hey, honey! How was the flight?”
“Where are you?” I asked, my voice tight. “You were supposed to pick us up.”
“Oh, right!” he said, a hint of sheepishness in his tone. “Mike called. He’s in town, and we decided to grab a drink. Just for a few hours. You can manage, right?”
“Manage?” I repeated, my voice rising. “Tom, I have two toddlers, a stroller, and three heavy suitcases. I can’t ‘just manage’!”
“Come on, it’s just for a few hours. You can manage,” he replied again, dismissing my concerns with a wave of his voice.
I hung up, my anger a burning ember in my chest. He had abandoned me, his family, for a few hours of drinks with a friend. I felt a surge of resentment, a feeling that had been simmering for years, now boiling over.
The next few hours were a blur of chaos. I struggled to wrangle the kids, their tired whines echoing through the airport. I wrestled the stroller, a monstrous contraption designed to fold with the dexterity of a Rubik’s Cube, and lugged the suitcases, each one a testament to the sheer volume of “essential” items toddlers require.
By the time I finally made it home, I was exhausted, my body aching, my patience frayed. But as I collapsed onto the couch, a plan began to form in my mind. Tom had underestimated me. He had assumed I would simply accept his dismissive attitude, his blatant disregard for my time and effort. He was wrong.
The next day, I woke up with a renewed sense of purpose. I packed a small bag, kissed the kids goodbye, and left a note on the kitchen table.
“Gone to visit a friend. Will be back when I feel like it. You can manage, right?”
I drove to a nearby spa, a place I had always wanted to visit but never had the time or money for. I spent the day indulging in massages, facials, and manicures, reveling in the quiet solitude.
I turned off my phone, ignoring the barrage of calls and texts from Tom. I wanted him to experience what I had experienced: the feeling of being abandoned, of being taken for granted.
The next day, I went shopping, buying myself a new outfit, a pair of designer shoes, and a luxurious handbag. I spent the evening at a fancy restaurant, savoring a delicious meal and a glass of wine.
I returned home late that night, to find Tom pacing the living room, his face etched with worry. The kids were asleep, the house a mess.
“Where have you been?” he demanded, his voice laced with anxiety.
“Out,” I replied, my voice cool.
“Out? All day? All night?”
“Yes,” I said, “I needed some time to myself.”
“But… but the kids,” he stammered. “I didn’t know what to do.”
“You managed,” I said, a hint of sarcasm in my voice.
He looked at me, his eyes filled with confusion and a dawning realization. “You… you did this on purpose.”
“Yes, Tom,” I said, “I did. I wanted you to understand what it feels like to be left alone, to be taken for granted.”
He looked down at his feet, shamefaced. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t think…”
“That’s the problem, Tom,” I said, my voice soft but firm. “You didn’t think. You assumed I would always be there, always manage, no matter what.”
He nodded, his eyes filled with remorse. “I understand,” he said. “I won’t do it again.”
I looked at him, searching his eyes for sincerity. I saw genuine regret, a flicker of understanding.
“Good,” I said. “Because I won’t tolerate it again.”
From that day on, Tom was a changed man. He became more attentive, more considerate, more appreciative of my time and effort. He learned that partnership meant sharing the load, not dumping it all on one person.
And I learned that sometimes, a little bit of payback can go a long way in teaching a valuable lesson.
Michael Madsen speaks out following death of son Hudson
“Reservoir Dogs” and “Kill Bill” star Michael Madsen addressed the death of his son Hudson, who died of a gunshot wound to the head in what was reported a suspected suicide, in January 2022, according to the City and County of Honolulu Dept. of the Medical Examiner.
At the time of his passing, Hudson was 26.
The family confirmed the news in a statement to Metro which read: “We are heartbroken and overwhelmed with grief and pain at the loss of Hudson. His memory and light will be remembered by all who knew and loved him. We ask for privacy and respect during this difficult time.”
At the time, they didn’t make any additional comments as they asked from the media to respect their privacy.
Later, Madsen opened up about his son’s passing through a statement released by The Los Angeles Times.
“I am in shock as my son, whom I just spoke with a few days ago, said he was happy — my last text from him was ‘I love you dad,’” the 64-year-old actor said.
“I didn’t see any signs of depression. It’s so tragic and sad. I’m just trying to make sense of everything and understand what happened,” he continued. “He had typical life challenges that people have with finances, but he wanted a family. He was looking towards his future, so it’s mind blowing. I just can’t grasp what happened.”
Madsen, however, is said to believe that his son was facing struggles after he joined the army because he was mocked after he asked for therapy for his mental issues. Hudson had one deployment to Afghanistan from August 2018 to January 2019 while stationed at Fort Carson, Colorado.
Hudson was married to wife Carlie and according to their social media, the two lived in Hawaii. According to Madse, his late son’s marriage “was going strong.”
We are very sorry for the loss. Rest in peace, Hudson.
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