The tremors turn to fractures

18 09 2012

Christmas of 2009 we had gone back to visit Mort’s family. Relations between Mort, his dad and his siblings had been strained since the passing of his mom in 2006.

This was not a fun trip.

We were there for 3 weeks and I was pretty pissed at Mort for the entire time. Instead of shaking off his family issues and getting on with stuff he let it weigh heavily on him and in turn completely disconnect with the girls and me.  Here we were in this great city with fabulous friends to reconnect with and yet Mort went into this self-absorbed funk.

For the first week he would claim jet-lag. We would take turns getting up in the night to deal with the girls and their various stages of jet-lag and requests for pancakes at 2am. But then come day light when the girls and I were up and excited about catching up with friends, he would plop himself on the sofa and start to watch sports claiming too tired to do anything. I would not have the holiday ruined for me and the girls so we got up and out everyday. When we would come home he would usually be in bed.

It was at this point that I told Mort that I was unhappy in the marriage and in non-too subtle a term…that he had better get his shit together. He apologized profusely and started to partake and we put on happy smiles for our friends. But there were several occasions where I woke in the middle of the night to realize that he was out in the tv room on the sofa with the 24 hour sports channel blaring. I couldn’t be bothered to go investigate, frankly I was happy with the separation and slept diagonal in the bed.




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