Terry Crews’ wife, Rebecca, shared that their marriage almost ended in divorce three times, but they worked through their issues after Terry decided to focus on “working on himself.”
In an interview with DailyMail.com, Rebecca, who’s been married to Terry for 35 years, spoke about how much she admires his determination but also revealed they’ve had tough times, even coming close to being homeless.
She explained that their shared faith has been important in their relationship. Even when things were difficult, they both kept trying, believing that they chose each other for a reason. Rebecca said they’ve had a few moments where they could have ended their marriage, but each time, one of them wanted to stay and worked hard to make things better.
Rebecca Crews, mother of five and the founder of a new boutique in Pasadena, shared more about her relationship with her husband, Terry. She explained that their marriage almost ended three times. The first time, she wanted out, but Terry fought to keep them together. The second time, he wanted to leave, but she fought for him. The third time, Terry had to face his addiction, and Rebecca kicked him out.
Terry begged her to stay, but Rebecca told him he’d messed up. He went to work on himself, became a better person, but Rebecca said he could still improve.
Both Terry and Rebecca have been open about their struggles, and in 2021, Terry admitted that his porn addiction nearly ruined their marriage.
When asked what makes a marriage last, Rebecca said it’s important to make sure both people are getting what they want. She knew what she wanted when she married Terry, and it turned out they shared similar goals. She warned that couples who don’t share the same dreams, like wanting children, can face big problems.
Rebecca added that even though it’s been tough, she always saw Terry as a good guy and her friend, and that helped them get through the hard times.
Rebecca Crews shared that she loved Terry as a person before she fell in love with him, and he’s still her friend. She joked that she can sometimes argue with him and then hug him right after, saying, “but you’re still my boo.”
Rebecca explained that while she holds Terry to a certain “standard,” forgiveness is important in making their relationship work. She said she often tells him, “You can do better,” and that he admits he’s not perfect. She believes forgiveness is key to staying married, but it has to be sincere. She added that you can’t just keep accepting bad behavior; sometimes you need to step back and let someone feel the consequences.
The couple, who have four daughters and a son, have been through tough times but live in Pasadena, California, and have been together for 25 years.
Rebecca Crews shared that there was a time in their lives when they were close to being homeless. They were just a week away from having to leave their place with nowhere to go when something came through for them at the last moment. They ended up moving just across the street in Burbank.
Now that all of their children have grown up and moved out, Rebecca said she and Terry have more freedom. They travel more and she can even join him while he’s working, making the empty-nester life fun. She joked that Terry can sometimes feel like another child!
With more time on her hands, Rebecca has been focusing on her clothing line. She’s grateful for the support from Terry, both financially and emotionally, and she credits him for helping her build her determination. Rebecca said it’s never too late to follow your dreams, and she now feels bolder and more confident. She even got emotional when her new store in Pasadena was opening, calling it a dream come true and seeing even bigger things ahead.
The Gift of Fido
The silence in my small house had grown louder with each passing year. Old and alone, the days stretched out, often indistinguishable from one another. I thought about getting a dog, a creature that would fill the emptiness, a warm presence against the encroaching quiet.
One chilly afternoon, shuffling through the familiar streets, I saw him. A small, scruffy shape huddled near a bin, dirty and clearly hungry. He looked up as I approached, his eyes wide but without fear. I knelt down slowly, offering a tentative hand. He didn’t flinch. I stroked his matted fur, spoke softly to him. When I stood up to leave, he simply followed, a silent, trusting shadow.
Now, he is my dog. My Fido. I am his human, his owner, though it feels more like we own each other. The silence is gone, replaced by the soft pad of his paws, the occasional sigh, the happy thump of his tail against the floor.
I talk to him constantly, sharing my thoughts, my worries, the mundane details of my day. He answers in his own way – a tilt of the head, a soft whine, or his favorite response, a vigorous wash of my hand with his rough tongue.
“Fido,” I’d told him just the other day, the worry etching lines deeper into my face, “tomorrow we won’t have anything to eat. The retirement money is gone, finished. We’ll have to wait until pension day!” He just licked my hand, as if to say, “We’ll figure it out, together.”
And then that blessed day arrives. I join the queue, a line of fellow retirees, each clutching their worn pension book, shattered by time and use. My own is tight in my hands, a thin lifeline. Fido, tied patiently nearby, shakes himself happily, a little dance of anticipation. He knows this day. He knows that today the bowls will be fuller, the meal a little richer, a little better than the thin gruel of the days before.
Winter arrives, wrapping the house in its cold embrace. Without a fire, the air bites. But Fido is there. Curled tightly against my legs on the worn armchair, or tucked beside me in bed, his small body is a furnace, a constant, reliable source of warmth that chases away the chill. He is more than just a dog; he is my living, breathing blanket against the cold world.
The first hesitant rays of spring find us sitting outside, bathed in the gentle warmth of the returning sun. We sit in comfortable silence, simply existing, together, grateful for the light, for the warmth, for each other. And from deep within my heart, a simple prayer is born, a quiet whisper of profound gratitude: “Thank you, Lord, for creating the dog.” For creating Fido, who found me when I was alone, and filled my life with warmth, conversation, and unwavering companionship.
Leave a Reply