My younger brother playfully slapped me on the shoulder: “He’s almost 70, but he still has so much energy!”
Just when we thought everything was fine, about an hour later, we heard Rekha crying from the bedroom. The whole family was shocked and surprised…
“Dad! What happened?”
No one answered, only sobs. I opened the door and went in.
The scene before me stopped me in my tracks: Rekha was huddled in a corner of the room, her eyes red, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, and her breathing ragged. My father was sitting on the bed, his clothes disheveled, his face etched with confusion and anxiety. The atmosphere was suffocating.
I asked,
“What happened?”
Rekha’s voice trembled:
“I… I can’t do this… I’m not used to it…”
My father murmured, his face flushed:
“Dad… I didn’t mean any harm. I just… wanted to hug her. She started crying loudly, and I was confused and didn’t know what to do.”
The next morning, after things had calmed down, I sat down to talk with my father and Aunt Rekha. I said gently,
“It takes time to adjust. No one should be forced into something they aren’t ready for. From now on, you and Aunt will take things slowly: start with conversations, morning walks in Central Park, cooking together, watching television. If you feel comfortable, hold hands, lean against each other. As for intimacy, let it happen naturally when you’re both ready. If necessary, I’ll ask my older uncles or a marriage counselor for help.”
My father sighed, but his eyes welled up with tears.
“I didn’t expect it to be so difficult. I… I’d forgotten what it feels like to have someone by your side.”
Rekha nodded gently.
“I’m nervous too. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. Please… give me more time.”
They agreed to sleep in separate rooms temporarily, maintaining a soft boundary and prioritizing each other’s comfort. In the afternoon, I saw Dad and Rekha sitting on the balcony, making hot tea, talking about the garden and the children at kindergarten. There were no more tears, only quiet questions and shy smiles.
The marriage of a 65-year-old man and a 45-year-old woman isn’t measured by their wedding night, but by the patience of each day: respect, listening, and relearning how to walk together. And we—the children—understood that helping Dad doesn’t mean rushing him into marriage, but taking small steps around him so he can emerge from loneliness with security and warmth
