<\/p>\n
My mom died of cancer when I was 14. Every Sunday, no matter how weak she got, she played her old Steinway piano. That sound felt like home \u2014 like her voice.<\/p>\n
After she passed, I asked for one thing: the piano. My dad promised it was mine. And it was, until Tracy came.<\/p>\n
Tracy, my dad\u2019s new wife, slowly erased all traces of my mom. Photos disappeared. Her things vanished. But the piano stayed \u2014 until I came home from college and found it gone.<\/p>\n
Tracy said it was \u201cfalling apart\u201d and \u201cjust taking up space.\u201d I was devastated. It was in the will. It was my last connection to Mom.<\/p>\n
Then Dad came home. When he saw the piano missing, he went pale \u2014 he\u2019d hidden a $3,000 necklace for Tracy\u2019s birthday inside it.<\/p>\n
She tried to get it back, but it was too late. The piano \u2014 and the necklace \u2014 were gone.<\/p>\n
That night, they fought. And the next morning, she was gone too. A week later, Dad filed for divorce.<\/p>\n
He told me, \u201cThat piano was hers. And so was my trust \u2014 which she threw away.\u201d<\/p>\n
We never found the piano, but things between Dad and me slowly healed. One morning, he led me to the garage and uncovered a secondhand upright.<\/p>\n
\u201cI know it\u2019s not hers,\u201d he said. \u201cBut it\u2019s yours now.\u201d<\/p>\n
I sat down and played. And for the first time in years, the music felt like home again.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"