And then today I thought about my mom’s reaction to the broken piano keys and realized that maybe she kept the piano; not because she loved playing, but she felt too guilty getting rid of it. Perhaps it meant more to my grandmother than it did to my mom. If the piano was so sacred to my mom, why wasn’t she more upset about the keys and the state of the finish?

I felt relieved for a chance to talk about my mom. My grief was a heavy burden to carry around alone. Thankfully, she asked me when my classmates were focused on other things.