I remembered that moment. We’d been cleaning the garage when I found my old sheet music. I smiled, tucked it away, and thought I’d forgotten. But Robert hadn’t.
“I’ve decided to learn piano. I want to give her back the dream she gave up for our family.”
I cried as I read about his lessons, his frustrations, his determination.
“Signed up for piano lessons today. The instructor is half my age. She looked skeptical when I told her I’m a beginner.”
“Today I tried to play a simple scale and my fingers felt like they belonged to someone else.”
“I’ve been at this for six months and I still can’t play a melody without mistakes. Maybe I’m too old.”
“I’m not giving up. Daisy never gave up on me. I won’t give up on this.”
“Today I played ‘Clair de Lune’ all the way through. It wasn’t perfect, but it was recognizable. I recorded it for her.”
Near the end, the entries grew shorter:
“The doctor says my heart is giving out. I don’t have much time. But I need to finish one more piece.”
