It was just like any other morning. There was a lot of papers on my desk, and I didn’t have much time to finish it all. And just when I thought things couldn’t get much worse, my manager came in and introduced me to the new person who was supposed to help. I was furious when he reached out and said, “Hello.” My new coworker was the one who ruined my life.
I was in a hurry to get to work on time, something I haven’t been doing as often lately. I wore a wrinkled shirt since I neglected to iron it. I saw my daughter Sophie doing the dishes.
I was in charge of what she did, but I didn’t always get things done around the house. I asked her if she wanted me to cook her breakfast, but she said no. I begged her, “Please let me take you to school,” but she said no.
When my wife died, she didn’t care about me and performed a lot of housework. This made me feel like a bad parent. Sophie had a hard time reconciling being a teenager with her responsibilities. She needed to have her own life, one that didn’t include responsibilities like doing the laundry and doing errands.
My boss let me into the office just in time to tell me that there was a new employee. I was better. “At last, some help,” I muttered to myself.
But when the new coworker walked up to me, everything fell apart.
“Why are you here?” You obtained a job at the location where I work out of all the places in town? I lost it.
Mark, the new guy at work, didn’t say a word.
He was the one who caused the car accident that killed my wife, Kira, a few years ago. I hated him and blamed him for how my life turned out.
Mark stated he was sorry and looked down. “I never meant to hurt anyone. That terrible night made me feel like I was hardly alive.
“Hey, I don’t need your apologies.” “They won’t give my wife back,” I said quietly, and then I went back to the piles of paperwork I had to accomplish. I didn’t need that guy’s help, and I couldn’t stand being around him, let alone sharing an office with him.
The next day, Mark came up to me and said, “I understand how you feel.”
I said, “You don’t know anything,” and my hand shook with anger.
He continued, “That night when you lost your wife, I lost my whole family.” “My wife was having a hard time with her pregnancy, and I was going too fast to get her to the hospital.” He said, “Neither she nor the baby made it,” feeling terrible and guilty.
I was able to understand him better. If I were him and Sophie and Kira’s lives were at stake, I would drive that fast too.
I’d rather not deal with him at all.
My supervisor came into the office that day and gave me even more stuff to do. He told me to finish these by tonight. I just nodded and began to work.
But then my phone rang. My mother called. “Are you going to the debate at Sophie’s?” She said, “You would be so sad if you didn’t come back.”
I knew I wouldn’t, though.
The individual who I suspected was responsible for my wife’s death advised me to “go to your daughter’s debate.” If you leave now, you’ll get there just in time. I’ll handle the job.
I told them no. He looked me in the eyes and said, “You can’t save the dead, but it’s never too late to save the living.”
What he stated made sense. I guess it was time for me to quit being angry. Mark was terribly sad. He was also someone who lost the individuals he cared about the most.
I merely nodded and left the office, happy that I had finally let go of the grudges I had been holding on to for so long.
Sophie looked around at the people in the audience when she stepped on stage. She smiled when she saw me, which made me think that a broken link could be fixed.