This should be a day of mourning. < img src = "https://zycie.news/crrops/872df4/620x0/1/0/2025/03/15/whi4cbxsxalc9rgp1crhipan2fvhlozszoerp.jpg" alt = "funeral @pexels" styles = "background-color: rgba (107,107,81,1)" > < p > Day of tears, silence, memories. There were relatives, neighbors, priest M & Amp; Oacute; about a good man, my husband, father, friend. And I & Hellip; I looked at the casket and felt one thing: Spok & oacute; j.
< p > I was not shouting in me. There was no despair. There was only silence, so deep that it was painful. And the question: is it normal that a woman does not cry after her husband's death ?< P >We were a marriage of thirty -two years. Thirty -two years of life on the whistle. On & ndash; Smiling, gallant, sociable. I & ndash; Quiet, understanding, faithful. For many years I thought that maybe this is the division of R & Oacute; L in a relationship. That I have to endure his moods, his p & oacute; his scent of other women on his shirt.
< p > He betrayed me almost from the beginning. First a colleague from work. Then & Friends' Oacute; łka family & rdquo;. And P & Amp; Oacute; I didn't know anymore. He had no courage to leave, but he also had no shame to become loyal. He left behind traces of & ndash; and I collected them like crumbs after someone else's dinner.< p > I stopped asking with time. For children. For the sake of peace. For the appearance of & oacute; w. But every betrayal left me in me.
< p > and kt & oacute; I stopped loving him. I was only out of habit.
< p > When they called that it was a heart attack, that he could not be saved & ndash; At first I felt something strange. Not relief. Release. < p > because I suddenly realized that I didn't have to pretend anything anymore. I do not have to smile at the neighbors who knew & oacute; I do not have to cook for someone who fed other women with lies. I don't have to wait for the key at night and pretend I'm sleeping.< p > at the funeral they stood & ndash; TE & AMP; BDQUO; familiar & One of them had black glasses and flowers in hand. They didn't look at me. Maybe they didn't have the courage. Or maybe they knew well that now I am free. They stayed with nothing.
< P > I'm not proud that I felt relief. But I will not be ashamed of it either.
< p > because I was his wife all my life. And he was never my husband. Not really.< p >< br />< Strong > See, as we wrote about in recent days: will the Pole know & oacute; in becoming a pope. The cardinal was indicated, which has the best chances of this