The music I played on my piano was my last link to my late husband. But cruel neighbors shattered that joy with a hurtful message on my wall. When my granddaughter found out, she made things right, leaving those entitled neighbors scratching their heads.
“Oh, Jerry, did you love it today, darling?” I asked softly, the last notes of “Clair de Lune” filling my cozy living room as my fingers lifted from the ivory piano keys. My eyes fixed on the framed photo of my late husband, Jerry. His kind eyes seemed to twinkle back at me, just as they had for over fifty years of our marriage…
Willie, my tabby cat, stretched lazily near my feet, purring contentedly. I reached down to scratch behind his ears, feeling the familiar ache in my chest as I carefully lifted Jerry’s photo.
“I miss you so much, darling. It’s been five years, but sometimes… sometimes it feels like yesterday.”
Pressing a gentle kiss to the cool glass, I whispered, “Time for dinner, my love. I’ll play your favorite before bed, okay? ‘Moon River,’ just like always.”
As I set the frame back down, I could almost hear Jerry’s warm chuckle. “You spoil me, Bessie,” he’d say, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
I shuffled towards the kitchen, pausing to look back at the piano, my constant companion these past 72 years.
“What would I do without you?” I murmured, running my hand along its polished surface.
That night, as I lay in bed, I whispered into the darkness, “Goodnight, Jerry. I’ll see you in my dreams.”
The next morning, I was lost in Chopin’s “Nocturne in E-flat major” when a sharp rap on my window startled me. My fingers stumbled, the music cutting off abruptly.
A red-faced man glared at me through the glass. He was my new neighbor.
“Hey, lady!” he shouted, his voice muffled. “Cut out that racket! You’re keeping the whole neighborhood awake with your pathetic plinking!”
I stared at him, shocked. “I… I’m so sorry,” I stammered, even as a small voice in my head protested. It was barely 11 a.m., and none of my other neighbors had ever complained before.
The man stomped away, leaving me trembling. I closed the lid of the piano, my sanctuary suddenly feeling tainted.
The next day, I closed all the windows before sitting down to play. The music felt muffled and constrained, but I hoped it would keep the peace.
I was barely ten minutes into Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” when my doorbell rang insistently. With a heavy heart, I answered it.
A woman with pinched features glared at me. “Listen here, old lady,” she spat. “The grave’s calling, and you’re still banging on that piano? Cut the noise, or I’ll report you to the HOA!”
It was only then that I understood she was my new neighbor’s wife.
I felt like I’d been slapped. “I… I closed all the windows,” I said weakly.
“Well, it’s not enough!” she snapped, turning on her heel. “Quit making noise with your stupid piano!”
I slumped against the door frame, tears welling in my eyes. “Oh, Jerry,” I whispered. “What do I do?”
I could almost hear his voice, gentle but firm. “You play, Bessie. You play your heart out. Don’t stop… for anyone.”
But as I sat at the piano, my fingers hovering over the keys, I couldn’t bring myself to press down.
Days passed, and I tried everything. I taped cardboard over the windows, played only in short bursts, even considered moving the piano to the basement where it might not be heard.
But nothing seemed to satisfy my new neighbors, the Grinches, as I’d started calling them in my head.
The thought of being separated from my cherished instrument, even by a flight of stairs, made my heart ache. This piano wasn’t just an object; it was an extension of my soul, a living connection to Jerry and our life together.
Forgetting about those bothersome neighbors for a moment, I lost myself in the music as I played the piano that night.
The next morning, I stepped outside to tend to my small herb garden. The sight that greeted me stopped me cold.
The cruel words “SHUT UP!” were spray-painted across the wall in angry red letters.
I sank to my knees and wept. “Jerry, I can’t do this anymore.”
That day, for the first time in decades, I didn’t touch my piano.
As night fell, I sat in Jerry’s armchair, clutching his photo. “I’m so sorry, my love. I just don’t have the strength to fight anymore.”
The shrill ring of the telephone startled me from my thoughts. I fumbled for the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Mom? It’s me,” my son Jacob’s warm voice filled the line. “How are you doing?”
I swallowed hard, fighting back tears. “Oh, I’m fine, sweetie. Just a quiet day at home.”
There was a pause. “Mom, you don’t sound fine. Is everything alright?”
I sighed, debating whether to burden him with my troubles. “It’s nothing, really. Just… some issues with the new neighbors.”
“Issues? What kind of issues?”
I found myself spilling everything… the complaints, the threats, the vandalism.
“I don’t know what to do anymore, honey. I feel so… lost.”
“Oh, Mom, why didn’t you tell me sooner? We could have helped.”
“I didn’t want to worry you. You have your own life, your own problems.”
“Mom, you’re never a burden. Never. Your music has brought joy to so many people over the years. Remember all those Christmas parties? The school recitals you played for? You’re not a nuisance… you’re a treasure.”
“Listen, I’m going to call Melissa. She’s closer. Maybe she can come check on you. And we’ll figure this out together, okay?” Jacob finished.
As I hung up the phone, I felt a small flicker of hope. Maybe I wasn’t alone in this after all.
Days crawled by. My piano sat untouched, gathering dust. I felt like a part of me was withering away.
One evening, a loud knock startled me from my melancholy. I opened the door to find my granddaughter Melissa standing there, her face glowing with a warm smile.
“Surprise, Nana!” she exclaimed, enveloping me in a tight hug.
As she pulled back, her eyes widened in horror. “Nana, who did this to your wall?”
I burst into tears, the whole story spilling out between sobs. Melissa’s expression darkened with each word.
“Oh, Nana,” she said softly, leading me to the couch. “How dare they do this to you? Did you report them?”
“I didn’t want to make a fuss. It’s just… it’s been so hard, sweetie. That piano, it’s all I have left of your grandpa.”
Melissa’s eyes filled with tears. “I know, Nana. We’ll fix this, I promise.”
“How?” I asked, feeling hopeless. “They hate my music. They hate me.”
Melissa took my hands in hers, her grip firm and reassuring. “They can shove their hatred up their butts, Nana. They don’t even know you. These entitled brats are about to learn what happens when you mess with the wrong pianist!”
The next day, Melissa was a whirlwind of activity. She made calls, ordered some supplies, and even enlisted the help of some neighbors I’d known for years.
“Nana, we’re going to teach those Grinches a lesson about respect.”
That evening, Melissa set up small speakers around the Grinches’ property, carefully hidden in the boxwood bushes under their windows.
When their car pulled into the driveway, she winked at me. “Show time, Nana!”
As soon as the Grinches disappeared inside, soft piano music began to play from the hidden speakers, barely audible at first. They rushed out, looking confused. Then suddenly, the music changed to a medley of barking dogs and car alarms.
I couldn’t help but giggle as I watched them run around, trying to find the source of the noise.
Melissa grinned triumphantly. “And now, for the grand finale,” she said, pressing a red button on a remote control-like device.
The air was filled with the most ridiculous assortment of fart sounds I’d ever heard. I doubled over with laughter, tears streaming down my face.
“Melissa!” I gasped between giggles. “You’re terrible!”
She hugged me tight. “Nobody messes with my Nana. Besides, a little harmless payback never hurt anyone.”
As we watched the Grinches frantically searching their yard, I was pleased. “Thank you, sweetheart,” I said softly. “For reminding me to stand up for myself.”
The next morning, a crew arrived at my house. To my amazement, they began converting my piano room into a state-of-the-art soundproof studio.
“Now you can play whenever you want, Nana,” Melissa said, squeezing my hand. “No one will ever tell you to stop again.”
As the workers finished up, I sat down at my newly polished piano. My fingers trembled as they touched the keys, but as soon as I began to play, it was like coming home.
The familiar strains of “Moon River” filled the air, and I closed my eyes, feeling Jerry’s presence all around me.
“That’s my girl,” I could almost hear him say. “Play on, Bessie. Play on.”
Melissa danced around the room, a glass of wine in hand. “You rock, Nana!” she cheered. “Grandpa would be so proud.”
As the last notes faded away, I turned to her with tears in my eyes. “Thank you, sweetheart. You’ve given me back my voice.”
“No, Nana,” Melissa said, kneeling beside me. “You’ve always had your voice. I just helped you remember how to use it.”
All too soon, it was time for Melissa to leave. As we stood in the driveway, waiting for her taxi, she handed me the remote control-like device.
“Just in case those Grinches act up again,” she winked. “One press, and it’s fart city. But I don’t think you’ll need it. The whole neighborhood’s got your back now, Nana!”
I hugged her tightly. “I love you so much, Melissa. Thank you for everything.”
“I love you too, Nana. Promise me you’ll keep playing, no matter what anyone says.”
“I promise,” I said, my voice strong and sure.
As I watched the taxi disappear down the street, my phone buzzed. It was a text from my son: “How are you doing, Mom? Melissa told me everything. I’m so proud of you. Love you. ”
I smiled, tears pricking my eyes as I typed back: “I’m doing better than I have in weeks. Thank you for being there for me. I love you too. ”
Turning back to my house, I could have sworn I saw Jerry standing near the piano, arms wide open, beckoning me to play.
I wiped away a stray tear of joy and walked inside, closing the door behind me. The piano was waiting, and this time, nothing would stop me from playing.
As my fingers touched the keys, I felt whole again. The music swelled, filling every corner of my home and my heart. And somewhere, I knew Jerry was listening, smiling, and dancing along.
“This one’s for you, my love,” I whispered, as the melody of our favorite song carried me away. “And for our family, who never gave up on me!”
The notes of “Moon River” floated through the air. As I played, I felt stronger than ever, surrounded by the love of those who mattered most, both here and beyond.
For 10 Years Old Man Sits on a Chair by the Sea Daily, One Day Two Boys See the Chair Empty – Story of the Day
Two brothers would see an old man sitting by the sea every day on the same chair. One day, they were bothered when they found the chair empty and decided to find out why.
Adam, 8, and Peter, 10, visited the seaside with their mom Alice every day. They would walk together along the shore, enjoying the sea breeze.
Every single day, they would come across an old man who would sit motionlessly on a chair, watching the waves. “Mom, is that man okay?” Adam asked one day.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“He is, sweetheart. He just likes to be alone. People have tried to talk to him, but he always just tries to avoid people. Let’s not bother him,” Alice replied.
The brothers couldn’t help but feel drawn towards the old man. They were curious as to why he would sit motionlessly on the same chair every day.
One day, they thought of a plan to approach him. While playing catch, they threw the frisbee in his direction so that they could come closer. When they ran up and apologized, the old man said, “You threw it here on purpose. I know you did… You,” he said, pointing at Adam, “you are great at throwing. And you,” the old man smiled, pointing at Peter, “are great at catching. So I know this was not an accident.”
The brothers’ eyes widened in shock. They didn’t know that the old man had been observing them, too.
For some reason, despite Alice knowing that the man didn’t talk to other people, he indulged the two boys in a long conversation. After they introduced one another, Peter finally asked the question they’ve been longing to ask: “Sir, why do you sit out here every day and watch the sea?”
“Well, I am here waiting for my brother. I have been waiting here for 10 years,” he responded. Adam and Peter looked at each other, confused.
“We were in the army together and were separated and sent to different countries. This happened a long time ago. When we last saw each other, we promised to meet at the same place, right here, where we constantly used to walk with our mother,” the old man explained.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“You wait for your brother every day?” Adam asked. “How do you know he’s still coming?” he asked. The old man smiled at Adam’s innocence.
“That’s the thing. I don’t know if he’s coming. I used to come, years ago, but my work transferred me to another city. Now, for the past 10 years of living here, I’ve been coming daily. They gave me his army dog tag, but they never found him. He is still missing,” he said, taking his brother’s dog tag out of his pocket.
Adam and Peter were sitting beside each other at that moment. The old man patted their heads and said, “That’s why you must take care of each other, boys. Brotherly love is the greatest strength in the world.”
After sharing his story, the old man introduced himself as Walter. The boys enjoyed his company that ever since that day, they would make it a point to spend time with him, bringing sandwiches and drinks. They would spend the afternoons talking and listening to each other’s stories.
One day, Walter and the brothers were surprised to see each other walking in the same direction while on the way home. “We live near each other!” Peter exclaimed. Walter couldn’t help but smile.
“I guess we do, sweet boy,” Walter said, waving before he entered his house.
The two boys felt extremely close to Walter already, after days of talking to him. They were so moved by Walter’s story that they decided to use social media to spread it, hoping to find his brother.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
One day, they went to the beach to find him and tell him about what they did. But when they got there, he was not at his usual spot. “He comes here every day! Every single day! Why isn’t he here?” Adam asked his mom.
“This can’t be. Something must have happened to him. We need to go to his house,” Peter said. At that, Alice allowed them to check Walter’s house by accompanying them there.
When they got there, they knocked. After a couple of seconds, Walter opened the door. The boys exhaled with relief. “Walter! Why didn’t you come to the beach today? Have you given up?” Adam asked him. Walter was smiling. Behind him stood a man who looked exactly like him.
The two boys were taken by surprise when the man suddenly shouted, “IT’S THEM! THOSE TWO BOYS POSTED ON THE INTERNET! I RECOGNIZED THEM RIGHT AWAY!”
Walter’s brother, James, found him thanks to the publication that Adam and Peter had put up. Walter smiled and hugged the two boys. “Thank you for finding my brother after forty-four long years,” he said, giving them both hugs.
It turns out that James was injured at the battle he was in, and he ended up losing his memory. He was sent back to the US, where he was diagnosed with dissociative amnesia caused by the overwhelming stress brought about by the war.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“I was told I would likely regain my memory either slowly, or all at once. In the past few decades, I slowly started to remember things like my first name, the fact that I lived in California, but nothing conclusive enough to bring back my old life,” James explained.
“Then one day, I was looking through the internet when I saw a post by these two sweet boys. It had a photo of you, Walter, and I suddenly remembered you and our brotherhood. I just knew we were brothers. I made my way to the address they posted right away,” he added.
At that, Walter and James took out their army dog tags from their pockets and handed one each to Adam and Peter. “We no longer need this. Because of you, we’ve found each other again. These are yours now. May it be a reminder to always take care of each other,” Walter said.
As they lived near each other, Adam and Peter would always visit Walter and James, who ended up moving in with his brother.
What can we learn from this story?
- Keeping the faith can be rewarding. Every day, Walter hoped that his brother would show up. One day, after choosing to share his story with Adam and Peter, his brother eventually showed up.
- The most unexpected relationships can mean the most. Adam and Peter never thought they’d get close to Walter, but when they did, and it brought about life-changing memories for everyone.
Share this story with your loved ones. It might inspire them and make their day.
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