The Day Sarah Came Home

For thirty years she’d been the pianist and organist at the Protestant Chapel at Fort McPherson. A new career began when she retired. A studio was built off the back of her house and a career of extending the beauty of music to another generation began.

The music stopped when Sarah began to drift away to dwell in that land known as Alzheimer’s.     Her husband, Edward, asked me if I’d like to go with him to visit. On the appointed day I was there bright and early. Sarah greeted me with a nod of her head, but gave no sign of recognition. My heart began to break for Edward and for Sarah.

I suggested we take her outside for a while, to let the sun fall once again on her face. We did. Around and around the grounds we pushed her in the wheelchair, speaking with her while not knowing if she really heard. If Sarah enjoyed the warmth of the sun she gave no indication.

Back inside, we went to the recreation room. That’s where I saw it. Over in the corner was an old upright piano, keys yellowed with age. Quietly, without a word, I rolled Sarah over to the piano. She stared. Not a word was spoken. Nor an indication of recognition came …..  until ….

I picked up her right hand and extended her index finger. Gently I brought it down on the middle C key. She stared. And then slowly, ever so slowly, her left hand began to lift. Both hands paused over the keys, and as if on some wave of the wand of an unseen conductor her gnarly fingers caressed the keys. “Sometimes I wonder why I spend the lonely days, dreaming of a song ….”  She played Stardust with an ease and grace that would have made Hoagy Carmichael proud.

After the nightingale had sung its fairytale, she paused a moment and then she played some more. Her bent back straightened. Her face brightened. From that old piano came the vibrant notes of Chopin’s Waltz in E Major. Her fingers danced from key to key. Sarah was smiling. Sarah was living. Sarah was back. 

All around the room the residents tapped their feet to the rhythm of Sarah’s melody. Smiles now decorated faces. Through Sarah’s fingers and the notes of that od piano new life rolled down the halls. When Sarah played that last note of Chopin, her audience applauded. She half turned toward them and nodded her head. It was magnificent bow of gratitude considering Sarah and her condition.

Back to the piano she turned. The fingers rose and a simple, plaintive version of Amazing Grace filled the air. Oh, how sweet the sound. She played all the verses and, indeed, it seemed as though we could feast upon the beauty of that music for ten thousand years. But we didn’t.

Sarah played the last note of the last verse. And then Sarah returned to that land where we could not go. She remained there until she died. But I’ll always rejoice that I heard the concert played when Sarah came home.