The Last Play

 

I take some steps toward the love of my life. The one true love that has supported me through all of my life’s hardships, the one true love that has never left my side irrespective of the situation. As my steps grow closer, all I’m reminded of is how this one dearest has helped me realize my mistakes, helped me turn into a better me than me.

“Oh, another typical love story”,

you may say, but this, this is not the story of love you’re expecting. This is the story of my love for someone who’s not someone. The story of my love with my love being my piano. The story of love between a piano and its instrumentalist. A story of sadness, desperation, despair, and separation but at the end, a beautiful story nevertheless.

 

I think this story started the day I first laid eyes on my piano. Or maybe it started the day I first went to a concert, or the day I first played a piano. Anyway, the path I’m on right now was laid forward the day of my birthday, the 17^th one. I had no idea of the big surprise, the burst of happiness entering my life. And as I unwrapped the surprise, I couldn’t stop the tears rolling down my eyes for I got the path to my dreams. The instant bond between us was one that said forever. But little did I realize then, you were not the path but you were actually the dream of mine.

As I played the first notes on you, those of River flows in you, I whispered to you, “Our bond shall be that of forever. I shall never stop playing. The day I stop playing, the day of our separation, it shall be the day my soul leaves me, the day of my death.”

 

And today, it is the day. My steps closer and closer to you, my life, my everything. As the steps close in the distance between us slowly, the sounds around grow fainter; the sounds of whispers in the Carnegie Hall, our dream together. It’s an irony, isn’t it? How this very audience that fulfilled our dream is the same audience that is separating us today. I wonder how many of the even feel guilty for the fate they’ve brought upon us. But maybe, most of them don’t even know of it.

That’s when I see him, at the very first row, with a smile that said he regretted nothing. The one who brought upon this on us. I still remember the words he had said to us,

“Either play or your beloved piano shall be destroyed, but remember, once you play here, you shall never get to play ever again.”

I finally reach my piano my companion of forever, my whole soul, the true essence of my being. I sit down on the stool, hands positioned on the piano and ready to play. The whole crowd is hushed up at that moment, waiting for the notes to begin. Until now, I wasn’t sure which of the two pieces close to my heart, I was going to play: Moonlight Sonata; a piece of despair, or Nocturne Op 9 No 2; a piece of sheer beauty and love.

But as I set my eyes on you, I know exactly of what I am going to play. And with memories of a lifetime flashing through my eyes, the nocturne begins.

 

Age 5:

“Grandpere! Grandpere! Where are you taking me?”

“To the first piano concert of your life my angel. I still remember the days you were nothing bigger than a small baby that could fit in your hands. Every time you started wailing, only one piano piece could calm you down. And by chance, it’s being played today in our local concert hall. I have to take you to see this, my angel.”

And thus they went, grandpa with his little granddaughter seated on his shoulders, to the concert; talking and laughing.

As the notes of Nocturne op 9 no 2 began playing and filling up the ears of the little girl, she was filled with awe at the way such beautiful sound could be produced in such a way. Even more fascinating to her was the connection she could see between the piano and the pianist; a connection as if they were one and only one.

And when the concert ended, she jumped into her grandpa’s arms and kissed his cheek.

“I loved it Papoi!”

 

“I’m sorry Papoi,” I whisper underneath my breath as tears fall down my eyes. I keep playing the notes with all the love I ever have in me flowing through the tips of my fingers.

“I’m sorry I have to do this.”

And I keep playing.

 

Age 17:

“Papa, Mama! Please tell me what my gift is!”

“Go and see for yourself, princess.”

The parents gave their little girl a puzzle to solve; a treasure hunt. As she solved each step of it eagerly, she came across her piano for the first time ever.

“Thank you Papa, Mama!”

She cried tears of joy.

But today, these weren’t the tears of joy. These were the tears of separation, the tears of sadness falling down my eyes.

“I love you Mama, Papa. Thank you for the most beautiful gift of my life.”

 

Age 20:

The girl was scared out of her wits.

 “I can’t do this. What was I even thinking signing up for this?! I’m not prepared at all. Everyone will hate me.”

“What are you doing, Dumbo?”

It was her elder sister, there to attend her first concert.

“I’m scared Lia, I don’t think I can do this.”

“What do you mean you can’t do this? You’re one of the best pianists in the whole city and you know it! And anyway you should not be focusing on the audience. This is your first concert, Dumbo. And today when you go out there, you’re not playing for the audience, but you’re playing for yourself, for your piano. Now go out there, go knock ‘em dead!”

And so she went. And it was magical, the way the notes of Moonlight Sonata slipped through her fingers, to her piano. It was as if there was no barrier between her and her piano. It was as if they were one. Just like she saw in the first concert she attended.

And when she stopped playing, the one who clapped the hardest in the audience was her sister, and the ones who were jumping up and down like maniacs, screaming, were her idiotasss.

 

“Take care, Lia. I love you more than anything. And my idiotasss, remain happy wherever you are. I love you all.”

I arrive at the ending notes of the piece.

“Today, this is the end. I’m sorry everyone, but this is it. I love you all more than anything and I’m sorry but I have to let go.”

“It’s time to go, piano.”

And then, I lift my hands from the piano, ending the performance. The audience erupts with claps, but I fall down from the stool, my lifeless form sprawled across the stage floor. My soul lifts us from my body, connecting with the one of my piano, for ours was a bond of forever.

The crowd was hushed up and the man who brought this upon us was shocked. Some people ran up to the stage trying to revive me but to no avail, for it was promised that the very moment of my separation with my piano was the moment of my departure. For my soul, it was the piano’s, and we were one and only one.

The piano dissipates from the stage and everyone looks on with shock. And so, my soul departs from all the happening and lifts up from the world to join my piano, waiting for me away from this physical world. Waiting for our togetherness in heaven.

 

“Even god can’t separate us. Even death can’t do us part.”