When faced with the very real possibility of becoming homeless, the threat of losing my piano was an overwhelming and thoroughly devastating thought. And, was it not for a friend who told me that, if we have to go into emergency accommodation, she would keep my piano for me, I am sure I would not have been able to prevent my breakdown.
See, this friend gets that my piano is not an optional possession. She said to me, “Not having your piano would be like losing an arm, like not having part of yourself.”
Some people could not understand my distress at being faced with this loss…of, what to them, is just a thing. They said things like, “Well, it will be different, but you will deal.”
No. No, I would not “deal”. My piano isn’t a want; it is a need. And, life being the bastard that it is, sometimes we don’t get what we absolutely require. Sometimes we lose the necessary, the very necessary. And, when this happens, it is not possible to simply deal.
This friend of mine was the first person, other than my husband, to acknowledge the gravity of the matter. Her offer and comfort mean so much to me. More than that, it’s her understanding that is so very precious to me.
Could I live without my piano? Could I survive? Well, fucking hell, of course, I could. But, survival is very overrated. A loss like that would mean being forced to go on in a grief-ridden, crippled state. A fate very much worse than death. That I will not be forced to do that at this time is a relief beyond my ability to describe.
Well meaning people don’t help when they say, “you’ll survive”. The only thing that helps is understanding and a willingness to, well, help. That is compassion. That is friendship.