he went pale. Then he dropped a bombshell: he had hidden a $3,000 Cartier necklace—Tracy’s birthday gift—inside the piano as a surprise. She turned white. Her frantic call to the buyer confirmed it: the piano was already gone, out of state. So was the necklace. But the real damage was already done. That week, my dad filed for divorce. He told Tracy,
“You didn’t just sell a piano—you sold my daughter’s memory of her mother. And you sold my trust.” Tracy moved out. A month later, Dad brought me to the garage. Under a tarp was a secondhand upright piano—not quite my mom’s, but beautiful in its own way. “I know it’s not hers,” he said, “but it’s yours now.” I sat down and played. The notes were rusty, but something shifted. In that moment, it felt like Mom was with me again—and for the first time in years, home felt like home.