The daughter left her father behind like a useless thing: a heartbreaking truth
PierreLuc Dumont never imagined he would spend his final days behind a foreign gate, watched over by nurses, surrounded by souls abandoned by their own children. He felt he deserved more: respect, warmth, a little peace. After all, he had spent his whole life working, providing for his family, building his routine around his sole happinesshis wife Élodie and their daughter Margaux.
With Élodie he had shared over thirty years, inseparable as the fingers on a hand. After she died four years earlier, the house grew cold and too silent. His only comfort was Margaux and his granddaughter, Amélie. He helped as best he could: looking after the child, using his pension for groceries, watching over her when his daughter and soninlaw were out or at work. Then everything changed.
Margaux started to look at him askance whenever he lingered in the kitchen. His cough irritated her. Dad, youve lived enough, let others live! became a refrain. Talk of a comfortable residence with doctors and television multiplied. PierreLuc resisted.
Margaux, this is my apartment. If you feel cramped, go to your motherinlaws. She lives alone in a threeroom flat.
You know perfectly well we dont get along. And dont start again! she snapped.
You just want the flat back. Instead of kicking your father out, find a job!
She called him selfish and threatened to find a solution. A week later he packed his bagnot out of desire, but because he could no longer bear being an intruder in his own home. He left without a word. Margaux beamed, almost carrying him to the door.
At the retirement home he was given a narrow room with a window and an old television. PierreLuc spent his days in the garden, under the sky, among other forgotten souls.
Your children placed you here? asked a benchside neighbor one day.
Yes, my daughter decided I was a burden, he replied, tears held back.
Me too. My son chose his wife. They kicked me out. Im Colette.
PierreLuc. Nice to meet you.
They became friends; the pain felt lighter shared. A year passed. Margaux never called. She never visited.
One afternoon, while reading, a familiar voice made him jump.
PierreLuc? I didnt expect to find you here, exclaimed his former neighbor Claire, a doctor coming to examine the residents.
Yes, its been a year. No one wants me anymore. Not a word.
Strange Margaux said youd bought a country house to rest.
I would have preferred rather than rotting here behind these bars.
Claire shook her head, troubled. After her rounds she returned; their conversation lingered with her. Two weeks later she made an offer:
PierreLuc, my mothers house in Provence is empty. She left last year; we sold her belongings. The house is solid, with a wood and a river nearby. If you want, it can be yours. I wont go back, and selling it breaks my heart.
PierreLuc wept. A stranger was giving him what his own daughter denied.
May I ask one thing? Theres a woman here Colette. She also has no one. Id like us to go together.
Of course, smiled Claire. If she agrees, its fine.
PierreLuc ran to Colette:
Get ready! Were leaving! A house in Provence, fresh air, freedom. Itll be wonderful. Why stay here?
Lets go! To a new life!
They packed, bought provisions. Claire drove them herself, refusing to let them take the bus. PierreLuc held her tightly, unable to voice his gratitude, whispering, Dont tell Margaux. I dont want to hear about her.
Claire smiled and agreed. She hadnt done anything extraordinaryjust acted humanly, which today borders on heroism.
