The daughter left her father behind like a useless object: a heartbreaking truth.
PierreLuc Dumont never imagined he would spend his final days behind a foreign gate, watched over by nurses and surrounded by souls abandoned by their own children. He felt he deserved morerespect, warmth, a little peace. After all, he had worked his whole life, provided for his family, and built his existence around his sole happiness: his wife Élodie and their daughter Margaux.
He and Élodie had shared over thirty years, as inseparable as fingers on a hand. After her death four years earlier, the house grew cold and overly quiet. His only solace was Margaux and his granddaughter Amélie. He helped as best he could: looking after the child, using his pension for groceries, watching over them when his daughter and soninlaw were out or at work. Then everything changed.
Margaux began to eye him with suspicion whenever he lingered in the kitchen. His cough annoyed 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 motherinlaw. She lives alone in a threeroom flat.
You know we dont get along. And dont start again! she snapped.
You just want to take the flat. Instead of chasing your father away, earn your own living!
She branded him selfish and threatened to find a solution. A week later he packed his bagsnot 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 escorting him to the door.
In the retirement home he was assigned a narrow room with a window and an old television. PierreLuc spent his days in the garden, under the sky, among other forgotten souls.
Did your children place you here? a fellow benchmate asked one day.
Yes, my daughter decided I was a burden, he replied, holding back tears.
Same for me. My son chose his wife, threw 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 returned.
One afternoon, while reading, a familiar voice made him jump.
PierreLuc? I didnt expect to find you here, exclaimed his former neighbour, Claire, a doctor visiting the residents.
Yes, its been a year. No one wants me anymore. Not a word.
Odd Margaux mentioned you bought a house in the countryside to rest.
I would have preferred rather than rotting here behind these bars.
Claire shook her head, unsettled. After her rounds she returned, haunted by their conversation. 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 sturdy, with woods and a river nearby. If you want it, its yours. I wont go back, and selling it breaks my heart.
PierreLuc wept. A stranger was offering him what his own daughter had denied.
May I ask one thing? Theres a woman here Colette. She has no one either. Id like us to go together.
Of course, smiled Claire. If she agrees, no problem.
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 supplies. Claire drove them herself, refusing to let them take the bus. PierreLuc hugged her, 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 as a human being, which today borders on heroism.
