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, never tried to rebuild his life. His days consisted of work, Sunday mass, and his small garden on the outskirts of Belo Horizonte.
The family members always insisted:
He would simply smile and calmly say,
“When my daughters are on the right track, I’ll think about myself.”
And I meant it.
The call that changed everything
When my sister got married and I got a good job in São Paulo, my father finally had time to look at his own life. One November night, he called us with a warm, gentle… 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 froze. 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 had met in 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. Roasted chicken, soft drinks, laughter, heartfelt hugs… and a few tears that no one tried to hide.
Marina wore a light pink dress, her hair was up, and she had a gentle 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:
—Go mind your own business, brat.
Then he took Marina’s hand and led her to the master bedroom, the same one he had shared with my mother for over thirty years. We had suggested redecorating it before the wedding, but he refused.
“Just the way it is, it gives me peace,” he replied.
The scream that woke us up at midnight
Around midnight, a noise woke me up. I thought it was the wind… maybe a cat. But then, there was a sharp scream , so unexpected it made my skin crawl.
My sister and I looked at each other in terror and ran towards our father’s room.
Behind the door, we heard Marina’s trembling voice:
—No! Please… don’t do that!
I pushed the door without thinking.
What I saw inside… left me speechless
The scene looked like something out of a clumsy romantic comedy, not something tragic as 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 over 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 fright. She was sitting on the bed, one hand on her chest, her eyes wide with shock.
But when she saw us appear, she started laughing nervously.
My father, red as a tomato, also burst out laughing as he tried to get up.
“Sorry… I think this rug has lived too long,” he joked.
A chaotic night… that became a precious memory
We helped pick the flowers, and then, feeling much calmer, we all sat down in the living room with a mixture of relief and laughter. Minutes before, we’d been imagining the worst; now we were laughing as if nothing had happened.
That night I understood:
My father’s love hadn’t died with my mother. It had simply been waiting for the right moment to be reborn.
Despite the age difference, despite their fears, he and Marina were building something sincere, imperfect, and deeply 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 scream that chilled us to the bone that night became one of our family’s most cherished anecdotes. Proof that love, when it arrives, doesn’t matter if it comes at 20, 40, or 60… it always deserves to be celebrated.