We Never Thought We’d Be the Ones Behind

I remember when we closed on our house. It was summer, the sun was bright, and the grass was greener than I’d ever seen it. My wife cried when we signed the last document. Not because she was sad—but because owning a home meant we’d finally made it.

For years, we kept everything together. Paid bills early. Put a little away every month. Took vacations, nothing extravagant. Sent our daughter to college. Did everything by the book.

Then came the layoffs.

I lost my job first. Twenty years with the same company. I thought I was safe. My wife’s position got cut six months later when her department merged. We both picked up part-time work where we could, but it wasn’t enough to match what we’d lost.

We used up our emergency savings in less than four months.

We put groceries on credit cards and juggled utilities. For the first time in our lives, we were picking which bills to pay each month. The mortgage fell behind. At first, just a little. Then more.

We thought we’d catch up eventually. But we never did.

The hardest part wasn’t even the money. It was the feeling that we’d done everything right—and somehow still ended up here. People don’t talk about how quickly stability can vanish. It’s not always a single crisis. Sometimes it’s just a slow, relentless unraveling.

Then came the notice of default.

I remember reading it in the kitchen while my wife made coffee. She saw my face change and stopped stirring. I handed her the paper and said, “It’s started.”

We tried calling the lender, tried to negotiate, but every person we spoke to gave us a different version of the rules. One day they said we were eligible for assistance. The next, they said we missed the window. It felt like a rigged game we didn’t know how to play.

And the shame—God, the shame. We didn’t tell our daughter. We didn’t tell our friends. I couldn’t stand the idea of being looked at with pity.

But one night, while scrolling through articles at 2 a.m., I found a story written by someone who sounded a lot like me—middle-aged, once secure, suddenly out of answers. They mentioned getting help from David Litt at 4Closure Rescue. Said he listened, really listened, and walked them through what to do.

They shared a number: 224-344-5700.

I didn’t expect much when I called. I’d talked to too many call centers, too many unhelpful “specialists.”

But David answered himself.

He didn’t rush me. Didn’t feed me a script. He asked what was going on and actually listened. I didn’t feel like a case number—I felt like a person.

Over the next few weeks, David helped us get organized. Showed us how to properly submit a hardship package. Helped us write a letter that explained our story in a way the lender would understand. And he followed up—kept us on track without pressure.

We ended up qualifying for a loan modification. The foreclosure was halted. The weight that had been pressing on our chest for months finally lifted.

I never thought I’d be someone writing a story like this. But here I am.

Because if you’re reading this and you’re behind—even if you never thought you’d be—I want you to know you’re not broken. You’re not alone.

📞 Call David Litt at 4Closure Rescue: 224-344-5700

Sometimes all it takes is one real conversation to start changing everything.