A little known fact is that all through growing up, I played piano. I started playing when I was 5 or 6, and played until I was 13 when I started High-school and couldn't fit everything in my life. I was trained in strictly Classical music (there was a small stint where I went to a teacher who let me play what I wanted, but A)at that point I was just burnt out and B)looking back I'm pretty sure he was on drugs the whole time.).
I received my piano from my older brothers' mom, Susan. I'm not sure the date that she purchased it, but from one of her hilarious stories about my brothers still being babies and her sitting facing the keys and one of them up-chucking all over it dates it to being in our family at least 40 years. She lovingly gave it to me when she found out I was learning the piano on an outdated keyboard. Having that piano really allowed me to love the music and love the instrument that is Piano. I played, and at times I really loved it. I think that those were the times that I was actually really good at it. I did the typical high schooler thing though and thought it was "so uncool" to play piano and "who wants to play Beethoven anyway?!", so I quit. I certainly don't regret quitting because it was the right thing for me at the time, but I think what I regret now is that I had a piano there to have an opportunity to re-learn it, and I took it for granted that it would always be there.
Moms house Thanksgiving Eve 2002 (Meg...HILARIOUS, right?!)
The piano stayed at my Mom's house all through college and through my time in my apartment in Maryland. The right time finally came for it to be with me when I decided to move to Texas with Terry. We were renting a huge house, and frankly, it would make it feel like a home for me.
It had the perfect spot in the house in Texas; a room all to itself with lots of daylight and lots of room for the notes to carry in the rare chances I played (or tried to play).
Christmas morning in Texas, 2008
When we got it here to Illinois, even with all the love we have put in this house, it just never had a proper home here. There was no place to showcase her; no place that would be perfect to show her off. It's been sitting on our entryway to the house for close to 2 years now, but the conversation of selling it or donating it came back up when we were finishing the entryway. I was at peace with moving it on with the stipulation that a child would have it as an opportunity to learn at a young age.
All the moving around it's gone through definitely took its toll. I mean, I get it that a piano is not supposed to move from Delaware, to Texas, to Illinois, and to who knows where for our next move. Not to mention how much it would continue to cost for us to move it around as we move. Terry and I have discussed the options with my piano, and it came down to the point that it's just not feasible for us to keep moving it around the country.
I posted it on Craigslist in the afternoon and by the end of the day, I had 7 people wanting it. I chose a man whose brother is a piano teacher who fixes up old pianos and gives them to his students who have keyboards or play at their churches to learn. When I called him and we scheduled our time for him to come pick it up, I got really choked up and told Terry he may need to be prepared for me to be a wreck.
And Wreck I Was. Wreck I still am I suppose, as I'm sobbing writing this post.
About an hour before he was to be here to pick it up, I just lost it. While I understand it's just an inanimate object and I can't hold on to things forever, this piano has not only been a part of my life the last 20 years, but a part of my families life for the last 40 years. It was by no means perfect, in fact some might say it was a wreck with it's horrible finish, in serious need of tuning, and 3 keys broken, but it was perfect to me.
Terry was so good with it all. He had been golfing and got home to me in the kitchen sobbing. When the poor guy showed up, I was a wreck. Terry had to take over and let me go back to our room because I couldn't keep it together. I pulled it together as they were strapping it to the trailer to carry the piano bench out and just silently say goodbye (I know, so ridiculous, but I just wish I could describe the void). A friend from work compared it to a pet, "it's hard to let go of something you've had so many memories with, but there must come a point where it's for the best". I know it's going to go to someone who can treat it better than I did, and hopefully some new family can have it for the next 40 years and get as attached to it as I didn't realize I was but have blatantly found out. I just hope the sadness eases up over time.
It just seems so empty now.