He offered me the piano and the studio. He asked me to play again, writing that he would always be there, in every note.
For decades, he had given me flowers.
But in reality, he was preparing something much bigger: to give me back the dream I had put aside to build our life.
Today
I go to the studio twice a week.
Sometimes I play. Sometimes I listen to his recordings.
Last week, I recorded a piece for the first time in sixty years. I titled it "For Jean".
My fingers aren't as fast anymore. The notes aren't perfect.
But they are full of love.
For 63 years, he gave me flowers.
And even after he left, he gave me the strength to believe again in my dreams and in eternal love , beyond Valentine's Day .
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