Gregory took his mom and his niece to Safir's Piano in Wilmette, Illinois. They were going to help him choose his new piano. He asked Gizelle, owner with her husband of Safir's, about pricing. Her reply was, "Don't ask about price. Play as many pianos as you want until you find the one that speaks to you. Then we will talk about price!"
He proceeded to audition several dozen pianos with his mother and niece jury chiming in. Bits of Bach and Chopin echoed through the otherwise empty two-floor showrooms of pianos of every size, every finish, and every maker." I hadn't realized that the sound pianos make could be as varied as there are human voice differences. Gregory called it "feeling the action of the piano."
Eventually, he found one that said, "Gregory, I love you!" Helen and Renee agreed. And they approached Gizelle. Because Gregory had sold so many of her pianos to his Interior Design customers, she made him an offer he could not refuse. She gave him the piano for her cost, and not only cost but what she paid for it five years earlier when she obtained it!
The piano was a handbuilt, Kawai parlor grand piano, some five to six feet in length with a matte black finish. Gregory always made it his business to dust the piano carefully and to not leave any fingerprints on the lid. Also, unlike many a movie you may have seen, nothing was ever on top of the piano like a line of photographs of family or important people in one's life! "It just shouldn't be done," Gregory would say.
Twelve years later, when Gregory could no longer play the piano due to his Alzheimer's/ Dementia, he decided to sell it. He said, "If I can't play it as well as I used to, I would rather someone have it who can. I can always listen to my Chopin on my CDs."
We advertised and found a young pianist, a composer who was looking for a piano having just moved to Chicago from Los Angeles. He came to the house several times to audition the piano and he too heard it say, "I love you!" His name was Michael, fitting! Gregory sold it to him for the same price he paid many years earlier. The piano came and left with love and then more love.
Last night as I was listening to some "meditative music" at bedtime, a piano piece came on. It took me back to my days of lying on our couch listening to Gregory practicing his various piano pieces, making "clams" as he called incorrectly struck notes, until the piece became a perfect part of his memory, played perfectly!
Tears began to fill my eyes and the sobs were just around the corner. Grief never leaves. One just becomes stronger and better able to carry the load. Great love means great grief and who would have it any other way? I wondered, "Where did his piano talent go? What is the piano's life like these days?"
Gigi (the cat who Gregory had picked out) came to me, as she always does in my sad moments, and snuggled in under my arm and purred. It was her way of "petting me! I settled down and eventually fell soundly asleep. Emotions, tears, and sorrow but carried on the joy of love.
