My whole family was happy when my father remarried at 60 to a woman 30 years younger. But on their wedding night, a strange scream echoed from the bedroom, and what I saw left me speechless…
My father’s name is Antônio Ferreira. This spring he turned sixty.
My mother passed away when my sister and I were still in college. For more than twenty years, my father lived alone—no dates, no second chances—just work, Sunday mass, and his small garden in Belo Horizonte.
Our relatives always said:
“Antônio, you’re still strong and healthy. A man shouldn’t live alone forever.”
He would just smile calmly and reply:
“When my daughters are settled, then I’ll think about myself.
And he truly believed it
When my sister got married and I got a stable job in São Paulo, he finally had time to take care of his own life. Then, one November night, he called us with a tone I hadn’t heard in years—warm, hopeful, almost shy:
“I met someone,” he said. “Her name is Larissa.”
My sister and I were shocked. Larissa was thirty, half my father’s age.
She worked as an accountant at a local insurance company, was divorced, and had no children. They met at a senior citizens’ yoga class at the community center.
At first, we thought she might be taking advantage of him. But when we met her—kind, polite, soft-spoken—we noticed the way she looked at my father. And the way he looked at her. It wasn’t pity. It was peace.
The ceremony took place in the backyard of our family home, under a large mango tree decorated with tiny lights. Nothing extravagant, just a simple gathering of friends and family, roast chicken, soft drinks, laughter, and a few tears.
Larissa wore a light pink dress, her hair up, her eyes filled with tenderness. My father seemed nervous but happy, like a young man in love for the first time.
That night, while everyone was helping to tidy up, my sister joked:
“Dad, try not to make any noise tonight, okay! The walls are thin!”