Over Thanksgiving dinner at my parents’ home, my husband of nine years, Mark, revealed he was gay. Looking back, I now see the signs I missed—the emotional distance, the lack of intimacy—but at that moment, I was in shock. Mark admitted he had always known but hoped he could suppress it and build a life with me.
The weeks that followed were tough. Mark moved out, and we began therapy—not to save our marriage but to end it with understanding. Almost a year later, while the pain lingers, I’ve found peace. We’re still friends, and I’m learning to embrace this new chapter.
This Thanksgiving, I’ll return to my parents’ house alone. It’s bittersweet but liberating. Life is unpredictable and often painful, but it’s also full of beauty. I’m learning to be okay with that.
