Family Games
A Man Who Gave Up Everything for His Daughters
My father, Eduardo Martins, turned sixty this spring.
My mother died when my sister and I were still in college. Since then, for more than twenty years, he lived completely alone. He never dated again or tried to rebuild his life. His days consisted of working, going to Mass on Sundays, and enjoying his small garden on the outskirts of Belo Horizonte.
The family always insisted:
“Eduardo, you’re still strong and healthy. No one should live alone forever.”
He would simply smile and calmly say,
“When my daughters are on the right path, I’ll think about myself.”
And he meant it.
The Call That Changed Everything
When my sister got married and I landed a good job in São Paulo, my father finally had time to reflect on his own life. One November evening, he called us with a warm, sweet… almost shy tone, a tone we hadn’t heard since my mother was alive.
“I met someone,” he said.
“Her name is Marina.”
My sister and I were stunned. Marina was thirty years old: half my father’s age.
She worked as an accountant at an insurance company, was divorced, and had no children. They met at a yoga class for seniors at the community center.
At first, we feared the worst: “She must be after his money.” But when we finally met her… our suspicions vanished. Marina was kind, respectful, and sweet. And most importantly, she looked at my father with genuine tenderness, and he looked at her with a peace we had never seen in him before.
A simple wedding that filled our souls.
The ceremony was simple, intimate, and beautiful. It took place in the backyard of the family home, under an old mango tree adorned with warm lights. Roast chicken, refreshments, laughter, heartfelt hugs… and a few tears that no one tried to hide.
Marina wore a light pink dress, her hair up, and a sweet expression. My father looked like a young man in love: nervous, smiling, almost childlike.
While we were all helping to clear the table after the reception, my sister joked:
“Dad, try not to make too much noise tonight, okay? The walls are thin…”
Dad laughed, pretended to be annoyed, and said:
“Mind your own business, kid.”
Then he took Marina’s hand and led her to the master bedroom, the same one he had shared with my mother for more than thirty years. We had suggested redecorating it before the wedding, but he refused.
“The way it is, it gives me peace,” he replied.
The scream that woke us at midnight
Around midnight, a noise woke me. I thought it was the wind… maybe a cat. But then, I heard a high-pitched scream, so unexpected it made my hair stand on end.
My sister and I looked at each other, terrified, and ran to our father’s room.
Behind the door, we heard Marina’s trembling voice:
“No! Please… don’t do that!”
I pushed open the door without thinking.
What I saw inside… left me speechless.
The scene looked like something out of a cheesy romantic comedy, not the tragedy we had imagined.
My father was lying on the floor, covered in petals, holding what was left of a huge bouquet of flowers. He had tried to prepare a romantic surprise for Marina… but he tripped on the old rug in the room.
When it fell, the noise was so loud that Marina, half asleep, thought something terrible was happening and screamed in fear. She sat on the bed, one hand on her chest, her eyes wide with surprise.
But when she saw us appear, she laughed nervously. My father, red as a tomato, also laughed as he tried to get up.
“Sorry… I think this rug lasted a little too long,” he joked.
A chaotic night… that became a precious memory. We helped pick up the flowers and, much calmer now, sat in the living room with a mixture of relief and laughter. Minutes before, we had imagined the worst; now we laughed as if nothing had happened.
That night I understood:
My father’s love didn’t die with my mother. It was simply waiting for the right moment to be reborn.
Gift Baskets
Despite the age difference, despite their fears, he and Marina were building something sincere, imperfect, and profoundly real.
They slept in each other’s arms, still laughing about the incident. And for the first time in many years… the house felt whole again, alive, happy.
The blood-curdling scream that night became one of our family’s most cherished anecdotes. Proof that love, however…
