He sat, alone in the room cursed with the absence of light. Alone only with his thoughts and a grand piano which belonged to the one he once loved. His hand rose slowly to the ivory keys and with shaking fingers he lay his hand down. The piano whispered its soft tune. His hand lifted off the keys immediately as a tear ran down his pale cheek. It pains him to continue, though it would hurt more to stop. His fingers creep closer to the keys once more and they navigate the piano until they rest upon the next note. Two more tears caress his face as he continues to the next note.
It seemed to be the perfect day, a day with his wife and daughter at the carnival. If there ever was such a thing as unfathomable love for one’s wife and child he would have possessed it. Hands and fingers interlocked between lovers and eyes set on a child, a child forged from the profound love of man and women. Her laughter happily fills their hearts as she goes round and round the merry-go-round.
Finally, he reaches the chorus which triggers the worst of his memories. Too sudden to prepare, the hurricane attacked the carnival. Each note played brings with it a roar of thunder. Umbrellas take flight, carts fall to the floor. Mothers hugging their children with no intention of letting go, except for one mother and child for the instant chaos formed a formidable wall between them. Child, screaming from the merry-go-round, mother, yelling helplessly from a distance. The mother dashed through the mayhem and grasped her child. They stood together on the merry-go-round and looked back at him, unbeknownst to either of them that it shall be the last look they exchange.
He paused, unable to finish the song. It was torture to carry on with the song for it was the first and last song that his wife played. It was her favourite as well as his. So there he sat, alone, truly alone. He attempted to sound the final note even though he knew of the agony it would bring.