Enquanto ainda está aprendendo a lidar com a morte do marido, Margaret faz uma descoberta que a força a repensar toda a sua vida.
Quando Margaret Freeman tinha 18 anos, ela tomou uma decisão que afetaria o resto de sua vida: ela se casou com o doce e engraçado Daniel Hernandez, que seu pai rico desaprovava.
“Você se casa com aquele canalha e não vai ganhar nada de mim, Margaret!”, seu pai gritou. “Você verá o que o amor realmente é quando você puder viver em um buraco de rato de um quarto com baratas subindo pelas paredes!”
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Mas Margaret não escutou. Ela tinha certeza de que nunca se arrependeria de amar Daniel. Nunca.
No começo, era romântico ir para casa, para aquele apartamento minúsculo (não havia ratos e baratas — não havia espaço). Margaret conseguiu um emprego como recepcionista em um grande hotel, e Daniel começou a trabalhar nos correios.
“Segurança no emprego, amor”, Daniel explicou quando Margaret o encorajou a encontrar um emprego com melhor remuneração. “Preciso saber que haverá uma pensão para nos manter quando estivermos velhos!”
Margaret entendeu a obsessão de Daniel com segurança. Ele não tinha visto sua mãe viver da miséria que a previdência social lhe dava depois que seu pai morreu em um acidente de trabalho em um canteiro de obras? Ele era ilegal, sem seguro, sem pensão para sua viúva e cinco filhos.
Daniel estava determinado a que a mesma coisa não acontecesse com Margaret ou seus filhos. Trabalhar para os correios, Daniel acreditava, daria a eles essa garantia.
Mas dois salários modestos não iam longe com dois filhos para criar. Embora fossem frugais, cada centavo que Margaret e Daniel ganhavam, eles gastavam. Sobrava muito pouco para economias.
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Então seus dois filhos cresceram, saíram de casa e começaram suas próprias vidas: o filho se mudou para o Alasca e a filha para o Brasil, e Margaret e Daniel estavam de volta ao ponto de partida.
Foi por volta dessa época que o pai de Margaret faleceu. Aparentemente, o tempo e a felicidade de Margaret não amoleceram seu coração, porque ele deixou todo o seu patrimônio considerável para seu filho mais novo, que não era perturbado por pontadas de consciência.
Quando você cede à dúvida, ela pode destruir sua paz de espírito.
Daniel ficou arrasado. “Foi isso que me amar lhe custou, Margaret!”, ele disse amargamente. “A vida que você merecia!”
“Não!” Margaret disse a ele firmemente. “Eu não trocaria o que temos por todo o dinheiro do mundo!”
Mas Daniel ficou em silêncio e distante, e pela primeira vez em trinta e oito anos de casamento, Margaret começou a se perguntar se ele ainda a amava.
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Então Daniel começou a fazer hora extra no trabalho, muita hora extra. “É essa nova correspondência de entrega noturna, tem que ser classificada 24 horas por dia, 7 dias por semana…” ele explicou. Mas Margaret notou que quando Daniel chegava em casa às duas ou três da manhã, ele tinha um cheiro diferente.
Ele cheirava a lírios, e Margaret nunca gostou de sabonete com cheiro de lírios. Isso a lembrava de sua avó paterna, uma mulher de quem ela nunca gostou. Daniel cheirava a lírios, e ele não fazia mais amor com Margaret, a menos que fosse fim de semana…
No começo, Margaret disse a si mesma que era imaginação dela, mas as coisas não mudaram. Dois anos depois, Daniel ainda chegava em casa toda noite, ainda cheirava a lírios e, pior de tudo, não havia dinheiro extra na conta conjunta deles.
Margaret tentou abordar o assunto com Daniel uma vez, mas ele a repreendeu. “Eu também tenho que prestar contas do que gasto? É meu dinheiro, eu o ganhei!”
Depois disso, Margaret não disse mais nada e chorou em silêncio quando ele chegava em casa todas as noites e lhe dava as costas na mesma cama em que haviam concebido seus filhos.
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Eles nunca mais falavam sobre seus planos para a aposentadoria, e as “horas extras” de Daniel deixavam poucas oportunidades para eles trabalharem no que estava destruindo seu casamento. Quando os fins de semana chegavam, ele se trancava na garagem mexendo com sabe-se lá o quê e só saía para as refeições.
De se considerar a mulher mais feliz do mundo, Margaret tinha certeza de que era a mais miserável. Todos os seus sonhos tinham evaporado no ar, e ela até começou a duvidar se Daniel a amara.
Margaret e Daniel tinham acabado de comemorar seu 50º aniversário de casamento quando Daniel teve um ataque cardíaco. Margaret sabia qual era o prognóstico antes mesmo do médico falar. Ele balançou a cabeça lentamente.
“Sra. Hernandez”, ele disse a Margaret, “acho que você deveria se preparar para o pior. O coração do seu marido está simplesmente desgastado. A única opção seria um transplante de coração, e a idade dele o coloca em último lugar na lista…”
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“Ele tem sessenta e nove anos”, suspirou Margaret. “Ele tem apenas sessenta e nove anos, ele prometeu que iria se aposentar…” Naquela noite, Margaret ligou para os filhos e eles voaram para Nova York para se despedir, junto com Anna, a única neta de Margaret.
Duas semanas depois, tudo acabou. Daniel se foi, e mesmo tendo falado amorosamente com seus filhos e netos sobre o passado, ele apenas segurou a mão de Margaret em silêncio.
“Margaret”, ele sussurrou em seu último dia na Terra. “Eu te amo, só você, eu sempre amei…” Essas foram suas últimas palavras, e um escasso conforto depois de tantos anos de dúvidas e infelicidade.
O filho e a filha de Margaret choraram pelo pai, mas eles tinham suas próprias vidas para viver, então eles partiram logo após o funeral. Foi Anna quem ficou para trás para ajudar Margaret a se conformar com sua casa vazia, sua vida destruída.
No dia seguinte à partida dos filhos, Margaret levantou-se e decidiu que faria uma varredura completa do passado. Com a ajuda de Anna, ela empacotou todos os pertences pessoais de Daniel em caixas de papelão para a Goodwill.
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Ela estava fechando a última caixa quando um cheiro de lírios assaltou seus sentidos. Ela se viu gritando roucamente, chutando a caixa, derramando todo o conteúdo cuidadosamente dobrado.
Anna estava lá para abraçá-la e acalmá-la, e de alguma forma a história toda veio à tona. “Ele está me traindo pelos últimos 12 anos, vindo para minha cama toda noite cheirando a outra mulher;” Margaret soluçou. “E suas últimas palavras para mim foram uma mentira!”
As lágrimas e a confidência de sua dor ajudaram, e Anna sugeriu que atacassem a garagem de Daniel, limpassem os últimos pedaços de dor de Margaret. As duas mulheres entraram na garagem e começaram a separar o lixo acumulado de uma vida inteira.
Então, em um canto, Anna encontrou uma mala velha com fechaduras enferrujadas. Ela estava prestes a jogá-la fora, mas ela parecia muito pesada, então ela decidiu abri-la primeiro. Não havia chave, mas o uso de uma chave inglesa velha e um martelo logo abriu a mala.
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“Vovó…” Anna arfou. “Por favor, venha aqui…” Margaret largou a lata cheia de pregos que estava separando e foi até o lado da neta. A mala estava aberta, e dentro dela havia maços de notas de $20 cuidadosamente embrulhados e um diário antigo.
“De onde veio isso?”, Margaret arfou. “É muito dinheiro!”
Anna abriu o diário. “Vovó”, ela disse suavemente. “Você precisa ler isso… Acho que ele começou a economizar cada centavo que podia quando vocês se casaram… Ah! Isso é de 12 anos atrás! Ouça: ‘Hoje comecei a trabalhar no departamento de saneamento de Nova York, no turno da noite de limpeza de esgoto.
“‘Não é um trabalho fácil, mas paga muito melhor do que meu emprego diário, e tenho que garantir o futuro de Margaret. O pai dela estava certo. Sou um perdedor. Custei tudo a ela, mas estou determinado a devolver pelo menos uma pequena parte.
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“‘Não quero que Margaret saiba, então eu disse a ela que estou separando a correspondência da noite para o dia e que tomo um banho antes de voltar para casa todas as noites. Não vou trazer esse fedor para nossa casa.’”
Margaret estava chorando silenciosamente enquanto Anna lia o relato de Daniel sobre sua vida dupla. “Olha, vovó, ele escreve o que está colocando na mala todo mês… Há um total de quase $300.000!”
Margaret olhou para aquela velha mala surrada, para a prova viva do amor incondicional do marido e da disposição dele de sacrificar qualquer coisa por ela. “Oh, Daniel”, ela sussurrou. “E eu perdi tanto tempo em amargura…”
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O que podemos aprender com essa história?
- A confiança é a pedra angular do amor, e uma vez que você cede à dúvida, ela pode destruir sua paz de espírito. Margaret acreditava que seu marido estava traindo quando ele estava trabalhando no mais desagradável dos empregos para garantir seu futuro.
- O amor verdadeiro fará de tudo para cuidar do amado. Daniel faria qualquer coisa para garantir que Margaret estivesse bem, e ele acabou sacrificando sua saúde.
Compartilhe esta história com seus amigos. Pode alegrar o dia deles e inspirá-los.
Se você gostou desta história, talvez goste desta sobre um bilionário cujos filhos gananciosos ficam chocados quando o pai deixa todo o seu dinheiro para estranhos que ele escolhe em uma lista telefônica.
Man Who Put Work First His Whole Life Could Never Get His Daughter to Talk to Him Until a Christmas Call Changed Everything — Story of the Day
A lifetime of putting work first left Tom estranged from his family. Now, nearing 70, he faces worsening health and a daughter who won’t take his calls after years of neglect. But an unexpected Christmas scare forces him to confront his choices, leading to a moment that could change everything.
Tom sat in his quiet, empty office, the only sound the faint hum of the heater. Papers were neatly stacked on his desk, but his tired eyes wandered to the decorated Christmas tree glowing softly in the corner.
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It was festive but felt out of place in the lonely space. He always stayed late, long after others had gone home.
His friends had retired, but work was his anchor. With a sigh, he picked up his phone and dialed his daughter, Daisy.
“Hello,” Tom said, his voice steady but hesitant.
“Hi, Dad,” Daisy replied, sounding distracted.
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“What does Theo want for Christmas this year?” Tom asked, trying to keep the conversation light.
“He wants a Furby,” Daisy said.
“A Furby? What’s that?” Tom asked, frowning.
“It’s a toy. It talks and moves. All the kids at school have one,” Daisy explained.
“Would it be okay if I just gave him money instead?” Tom asked carefully.
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“Uh… yeah, I guess,” Daisy replied in a disappointed tone, then hung up quickly.
After working a little longer, Tom gathered his belongings. His desk, once bustling with life and cluttered with files, now looked too clean, almost sterile.
Locking the office door behind him, he stepped into the chilly evening air and drove home, the radio playing softly but failing to distract his thoughts.
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When he entered his empty house, the silence greeted him like an old, unwelcome friend. He hung his coat on the hook near the door and stared at the dimly lit living room.
The same sofa, the same TV, the same memories. For years, he’d lived alone, ever since his wife packed up and left, taking Daisy with her.
Tom changed into his worn-out sweatpants and sank into the couch, remote in hand.
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As the TV flickered on, his eyes wandered to the shelf. There sat a photo of Theo, grinning widely.
It was one of the few connections he had left. He sighed deeply, the weight of missed moments pressing on his chest.
The next morning, he drove to the clinic. Sitting in the doctor’s office, he felt trapped, knowing exactly what he’d hear: to slow down and work less.
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Dr. Harris walked into the room with a clipboard in hand, his expression calm but focused. “Well, Tom, how are you feeling today?” he asked, sitting down across from him.
“I’m fine,” Tom muttered, avoiding eye contact.
Dr. Harris flipped through Tom’s file. “Your test results are mostly okay, but your cholesterol is still too high. We’ve talked about improving your diet. Are you eating better?”
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“No. I ignore it,” Tom said, crossing his arms.
“Tom, this isn’t something you can ignore. You know your heart’s condition. You need to make changes,” Dr. Harris said firmly.
“I drink water,” Tom replied, holding up a bottle. “My daughter sent it. Says it’s fancy.”
“That’s good, but it’s not enough. Have you told your family about your condition yet?” Dr. Harris asked, leaning forward.
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“No,” Tom said, his tone cold.
“Tom, we’ve talked about this before. Your family should know,” Dr. Harris said, clearly frustrated.
“I wasn’t a good father. My daughter and I don’t have the best relationship. I don’t want to drag her into this mess,” Tom said, shaking his head.
“Are you worried she won’t want to help?” Dr. Harris asked gently.
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“No. I’m worried she’ll help too much,” Tom admitted.
“Tom, you have to tell her, or I will,” Dr. Harris said firmly, standing up.
“You’re supposed to make my life easier, Doc,” Tom said with a weak smile.
“I’m just trying to keep you alive,” Dr. Harris replied, patting Tom’s shoulder before walking out.
Back home, Tom sat in his favorite armchair, the phone resting heavily in his hand.
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The screen lit up with Daisy’s contact, but his thumb hovered over the call button. He stared at it, debating.
What if she got upset? What if she brushed him off? Shaking his head, Tom forced himself to press the button.
“Dad?” Daisy’s voice came through, a mix of curiosity and concern.
“We need to talk,” Tom said, his voice quieter than he intended.
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“What’s going on?” Daisy asked.
Tom took a deep breath and told her about his heart condition. There was a long pause on the line before Daisy finally said, “I’m coming tomorrow. I’ll take care of it.”
“Daisy, you don’t have to—” Tom began, but she cut him off.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Dad,” she said firmly, ending the call.
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The next day, Daisy arrived with a determined look. She immediately called his doctor, grilling him about the details of Tom’s health.
Afterward, she attacked the fridge, tossing out every unhealthy item. Sitting Tom down at the table, she crossed her arms.
“Andrew and I talked, Dad,” Daisy began, her voice calm but firm. “We want you to come live with us. We have a guest house. You’d have your own space, and we’d be close by. I’ve already looked into a great doctor in our area who can help manage your condition. It’s all set up. You wouldn’t have to—”
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“Thank you, Daisy, really,” Tom interrupted, holding up his hand. “But I can’t do that.”
“Why not?” Daisy asked, her tone sharper now.
“Because I need to work,” Tom said simply.
“Work? Are you serious?” Daisy asked, raising her voice. “Dad, you’re almost 70! How much longer do you think you can keep this up?”
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“Sweetheart,” Tom said softly, “work is all I have. I’ve built my life around it. I don’t know who I am without it.”
“And what about me? What about Theo?” Daisy shot back, her voice trembling. “When are you going to care about us? You’ve missed so much! My whole life, I heard people say how great you were. But I didn’t know that man. My dad was never around. And Theo? He doesn’t even remember you!”
“Daisy, I…” Tom began, his voice breaking.
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“I’m done, Dad,” Daisy said, tears in her eyes. She grabbed her bag and slammed the door behind her.
Over the next two weeks, Tom called Daisy every day, but each time, her voicemail picked up. He left messages, his words stumbling as he tried to explain himself.
“Daisy, it’s Dad. Please call me back. I’m sorry for everything.” The silence that followed weighed heavily on him.
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He replayed their last argument in his mind, each word cutting deeper. When Dr. Harris told him his condition had worsened, Tom knew he couldn’t wait forever. He had to make amends.
The day before Christmas, Tom sat at his desk, focusing on the work that usually kept his mind busy. His phone rang, displaying an unknown number.
“Hello?” he answered, his voice cautious.
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“This is Riverside Health Clinic,” a calm voice said. “We’ve received Mrs. Brown’s body following an accident. Your number is listed as the emergency contact.”
Tom froze, his heart pounding. “Mrs. Brown?” he repeated.
“Yes, sir,” they replied.
“I can’t get there for at least six hours,” Tom said, his voice shaking. Panic gripped him. His daughter. Daisy.
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“Understood. We’ll wait,” the voice responded before the line went dead. Tom sat there, stunned, the phone still in his hand.
Tom grabbed his coat and rushed out the door, his mind racing. At the airport, he fumbled with his phone, dialing Andrew again and again, but there was no answer.
Frustrated and panicked, he bought a ticket for the next flight, not caring about the cost. Sitting in the crowded plane, his chest felt tight, and his hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
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He reached into his pocket, pulling out the small bottle of calming pills Dr. Harris had given him, swallowing one with a shaky gulp of water.
After landing, Tom flagged down a taxi and rushed to the hospital, his heart pounding. At the reception desk, he leaned forward, his voice trembling. “I was told my daughter, Daisy Brown, was in an accident.”
The receptionist frowned and tapped on her keyboard. “Daisy Brown?” she asked.
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“Yes,” Tom said, his hands gripping the counter tightly.
“I think there’s been a mix-up,” she replied. “It was Sarah Brown who was in the accident, not Daisy.”
Tom’s knees felt weak. “Are you sure? I got a call saying it was Daisy.”
The receptionist stepped away, returning after a few minutes. “I’m very sorry. A new nurse confused the files of Sarah Brown and Daisy Brown. She called you by mistake.”
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Tom’s face flushed with frustration. “How could something like that happen? Do you have any idea how terrified I’ve been?”
“Brown is a common last name,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact. “Again, I’m sorry.” She returned to her screen, acting as if the incident was resolved. Tom stood there, his body shaking, disbelief and relief flooding him at the same time.
Tom sank into a chair, his head in his hands, his heart still racing from the scare.
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Around him, doctors and nurses moved quickly, their faces focused and calm, handling lives that hung by a thread.
The thought hit him hard—this time it wasn’t Daisy, but what about next time? He couldn’t ignore the reality that life was fragile, and time wasn’t endless.
Taking a deep breath, Tom stood up with a new resolve and walked out of the hospital. Two hours later, Tom stood at Daisy’s doorstep, shifting awkwardly in the too-tight Santa costume.
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The fake beard itched, and the toy Furby felt ridiculous in his hand, but he had come this far. He rang the doorbell, his heart pounding.
The door opened, and Daisy stood there, her eyes widening. “Dad?” she said, her voice filled with surprise.
“Merry Christmas,” Tom said, forcing a small smile. “I know I’ve been a terrible father and grandfather. I’ve missed so much. But I want to change that. I want to do better, starting today.”
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Daisy’s eyes glistened with tears, and her lips curved into a smile. She stepped aside and said, “Come in, Dad.”
She turned and called into the house, “Theo! Come here! Look who’s at the door!”
Little Theo came running, his eyes lighting up when he saw Tom. “Santa!” he shouted with pure joy, throwing himself into Tom’s arms.
Tom knelt, hugging Theo tightly, the toy dropping to the floor as his emotions spilled over. Tears streamed down his face, and when he glanced up, he saw Daisy watching, her smile full of warmth.
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: Walking into the office that morning, I expected another ordinary day of burying myself in work. But then I saw him—the man who had destroyed my life. My chest tightened, and the memories came flooding back. I had no idea how to handle it. All I knew was that I couldn’t stay in the same room as him.
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