noteworth: her way of never forgetting love

Some people have a way of endearing themselves into your life whether you’ve  spent a season with them or a mere afternoon.

M: “I haven’t had a piano lesson in a long while.”

JNET: “Never too late to begin again. Glad to have you. How long ago was your last piano lesson?”

M: “Eighty years.”

Eighty years!

M was only eight years old when her piano lessons were abruptly ended; her father had to sell the family piano.  It was the Depression and everyone had fallen onto hard times.  Valuables had to be let go.   I can only imagine how difficult that must’ve been for a young person to live though.  Carefree childhood of curiosity and play overshadowed by hardship.

M never forgot that she loved the piano and later in life, she and her husband bought a piano for their home in hopes that their own children may someday play.   She bought sheet music and sometimes entertained a moment to plunk out the melody but never sought a teacher for herself to continue her studies.  I’m not sure why she hadn’t continued her piano studies earlier.  Perhaps she thought it was an extravagance that she was waiting to lavish on children.

But children were not meant for the two of them.

Life was busy and full even though M never had any children of her own.  This woman had more life than a local ladies’ tea group.  She was close to her nieces and nephews and had many friends.  She had a busy social schedule and traveled.  But Life had finally slowed down a bit.  Her husband, best friend and adventure partner had passed away.

M: “These are mine and my husband’s favorite songs that we would dance to. I want to read the notes so that I may play them and remember him.”

And that is how an eighty eight year old woman came to begin her piano lessons with me.  I thought it was utterly romantic and I was moved.  This wasn’t a woman that was going to be weighed down by sorrow in remembering her love.

The eight year old child in her shined during those lessons.   The Depression had never quite fully darkened her childhood.  Teaching her cheered me up even though I was going through my own feelings of uncertainty in being new in the city.  She was eighty eight and she was delightful; playful, goofy and determined to learn.  Yet, she was very much a wise, old soul for her eyes would mist when a part of the melody connected her to a sentimental memory of her husband.  We shared a few moments of silent understanding before she would smile again and speak.  And when she spoke, sunshine would beam from her.  She was a negativity slayer, a rugged angel of high order.

I think of her every Christmas for I still have a few past holidays cards with a note saying she missed me and hoped to resume lessons again.  Her friends were becoming more frequently ill and she wanted to be with them.   We have not yet resumed.  Life became full and busy for me that I hadn’t realized that more time passed between us than I would’ve liked.

Perhaps I will find her this year.

I hope she did continue playing her piano without me.  Playing as a way to never forget love.

JNET

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~ by jnetsworld on January 8, 2013.

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