The truth was, he’d developed an edge of cruelty. It started with small comments. “You’ve really let yourself go since Dorothy got sick,” he’d say. “Maybe spend less time moping and more time at the gym.” Then came the criticism about my parenting. “You’re turning the kids soft. Dorothy babied you, and look where that got you. Working part-time in a library like some college student instead of having real ambition.” That stung. He knew I loved my job.