I Thought I Was Coming Home… Until I Saw My Own Funeral Happening

My marriage was great, or so I thought, until the day I returned from a business trip to find our backyard set up for a funeral. My funeral. Jake, my husband, was at the front, greeting guests dressed in black. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

People say love can make you act crazy, but hosting a funeral for your wife while she’s still alive? That’s beyond crazy.

I walked up slowly, wondering if I had entered some kind of alternate reality. But no, it was real, and everyone thought I was dead.

Jake and I had been married for six years. We met through my college friend, Rachel, at a dinner party. I still remember how he made everyone laugh with his terrible dad jokes.

That night, I told Rachel he was different from anyone I’d ever met.

Six months later, he proposed at our favorite coffee shop. Saying yes felt like the best decision of my life.

Right after our wedding, we started trying for a baby.

However, things didn’t go as planned. Every month brought another negative test, and we couldn’t understand why. After two years, we finally saw fertility specialists.

We were so hopeful then. We thought that this time we would finally get the positive result we had been dreaming about.

But it wasn’t to be. None of the treatments worked, and each failure broke our hearts.

Meanwhile, well-meaning relatives’ questions added to the pain.

“Have you tried those fertility herbs I mentioned?” Aunt Susan asked at every family gathering. “My neighbor’s daughter swears by them!”

Last Thanksgiving, my cousin announced her pregnancy. I excused myself to cry in the bathroom. Jake found me there, sobbing on the closed toilet lid.

“Hey, beautiful,” he said, kneeling in front of me. “Want to ditch this place and grab some terrible diner food?”

I laughed through my tears. “Everyone will know why we’re leaving.”

“Let them know,” he shrugged. “Their opinions don’t pay our bills or make us happy. We’re perfect just the way we are.”

That was Jake. He always knew how to lift me up when everything felt too heavy.

While society made me feel incomplete for not being a mother, Jake made me feel whole.

On the career front, I had been moving up the corporate ladder since I started working. I was managing a team of 15 at a large firm and had just landed three major clients.

Jake worked as an accountant at a smaller firm. He earned less than I did, but that was never an issue for us.

He celebrated the little wins at his job—like when he implemented a new filing system or helped a colleague with a tricky spreadsheet.

Some of my friends didn’t get it. They found it odd that I earned more, that we didn’t have kids, and that we were content with our simple life.

Jake and I were always on the same page—until last month. That’s when everything changed.

I was reviewing quarterly reports in my office when my boss, David, called me in.

“Lexi, we need you in Denver,” he said. “The account is at risk, and you’re the only one who can fix it.”

“Denver? When?”

“Tomorrow morning. It’ll take about a week.”

I was devastated. Jake’s birthday BBQ was that weekend, and he had already bought a new grill. We had been planning it for weeks.

That evening, I found Jake in the kitchen, happily chopping vegetables.

“Something smells great,” I said, delaying the news.

“Just testing out a new marinade for the party,” he grinned. “Want to taste?”

“Jake, honey… I need to tell you something.”

He stopped chopping and looked at me. “What’s wrong?”

“I have to go to Denver. Tomorrow. For a week.”

His face fell. “But… the BBQ…”

“I’m so sorry,” I said. “It’s a huge client, and David specifically asked for me. We can celebrate when I get back, maybe take that road trip we’ve been talking about.”

He forced a smile, but I could see the hurt in his eyes. “Sure, it’ll be great.”

The week in Denver was intense but successful. We not only saved the account but expanded it. I was able to return home a day early to surprise Jake.

As I drove down our street, something felt off. Cars lined both sides of the road, and people were walking toward our house.

I parked and rushed to the backyard, where I heard people talking softly. When I arrived, I froze.

Chairs were set up, and flowers covered the yard. At the front, a large portrait of me surrounded by black ribbons was displayed. It was my funeral.

As I walked in, people gasped. Then I saw Jake, greeting guests as if I had really died.

“Jake!” I called.

He turned and saw me. His face turned red with anger.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

“What am I doing here? What is this?” I asked. “Why are you hosting my funeral?”

“Your mom told me the truth!” he shouted. “About your promotion and how you’re leaving me behind!”

I was shocked. The promotion offer was something I hadn’t even discussed with him yet because I wanted to talk it through after my trip.

“Mom told you?” I asked.

“I thought he knew,” my mother said, rushing over. “I’ve been trying to talk sense into him for the past hour, but—”

“Thanks for ruining everything, Mom,” I snapped, cutting her off.

Turning back to Jake, I asked, “This is your response? A funeral because you think I’m leaving?”

“You were abandoning me!” he cried. “I know you’ve always put work first, and this was your way out. After all, we don’t even have kids—”

“No!” I interrupted. “I was waiting to tell you that the company offered you a job too! We could have moved together.”

Jake’s eyes widened in shock. “They… offered me a job?”

“Yes, a senior accountant position. I wanted us to make the decision as a team,” I said, tears streaming down my face. “But this? A funeral because you assumed the worst? That’s not trust.”

Jake reached for my hand. I stepped back.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I just thought—”

“Enough,” I said. “I’m staying at my mom’s tonight.”

As I left the backyard, I realized this wasn’t just a funeral for me—it was for our marriage and the trust we had built.

The next day, I accepted the promotion and called a divorce lawyer. Looking back, I’m grateful things turned out this way. Without kids, no one had to witness their father’s funeral stunt.