If Only

Chapter Two: The Encounter

But then, my mother's voice interrupted my thoughts, jarring me back to reality. She was calling me, urging me to come inside and help with the chores. I hesitated for a moment, wondering if it was worth it, if I could face the daunting task of cleaning up and restoring the house to its former glory.

In the end, I decided to stay, to face my fears and help my mother and Glenda with the work. It was the least I could do for my grandparents, who had loved this place with all their hearts. As I looked around the empty rooms, I realized that the only way to honor their memory was to bring life back to the house, to make it a home again, filled with warmth and love. And with that thought, I took my first step forward, ready to face the pain and the memories that lay ahead.

Would Grams and Gramps be happy if I abandoned their legacy and moped in my room like a caveman?

I forced myself to swallow the lump in my throat and walked further into the house. Glenda and my mother were already busy sweeping and dusting, but I couldn't find it in myself to join them. Instead, I wandered around aimlessly, searching for any trace of the warmth and love that used to fill this place.

My feet led me to a closed door that I used to love to open every day, and I felt a sense of dread wash over me. The hallway was darker and narrower, and dust had accumulated on the floor. My hand reached out to twist the knob, almost against my will, and I pushed the door open. The room was dark, and my hand fumbled for the light switch. When the room was illuminated, I gasped at what I saw.

The Grand Piano my Gramps had bought... for me.

He had known my love for music since the beginning. We had gone on an adventure together and stumbled upon a music shop. I fell in love with one of the pianos, and Gramps couldn't be more supportive of teaching me. On my birthday, he surprised me with the gift of a lifetime, and I was the happiest person alive.

But now, the sight of the piano filled me with pain. I remembered all the times I sat here and played passionately, losing myself in the music with my grandfather. Now, I could never bring myself to play it again, for fear of being consumed by my grief.

As I ran my finger over the smooth cloth that covered the piano, tears streamed down my face. My mother's voice calling my name broke me out of my reverie, and I quickly wiped away the tears, trying to hide my pain.

"I'm sorry, I was just about to start cleaning," I mumbled under my breath as I frantically searched for something to do, anything to avoid the piercing gaze of my mother. The music sheets strewn across the room offered a momentary distraction, so I scrambled to gather them and shove them into their designated cabinet.

But my mother's voice cut through the air like a knife, slicing open my carefully constructed facade.

"This used to be your favorite place," she said, her eyes wandering around the room. I froze, my heart pounding in my chest.

I tried to brush off her words, to pretend like they didn't hurt me, but they cut deep. This room, once a source of joy and comfort, now felt like a prison. Memories of my grandfather flooded back, taunting me with their sweetness and reminding me of what I had lost.

"We should be cleaning," I said, my voice trembling as I busied myself with the dust-covered Grand Piano. I ran my fingers over the cloth covering it, feeling the weight of my grief like a physical presence.

"I could help you sort things out in here"

My mother's sudden offer to help caught me off guard. Despite my best efforts to push her away, she remained a constant presence in my life, always willing to help even when I didn't deserve it. I watched as she crossed the room and began to clean, feeling a mix of guilt and gratitude wash over me.