I didn't sleep the night Grandma died.<\/p>\n
I went home, placed her photographs on the kitchen table, and sat in the dark.<\/p>\n
My coat was still on.<\/p>\n
The paper bag of lemon cookies was in my hand.<\/p>\n
I had carried it out of hospice without realizing.<\/p>\n
I set it beside the sink.<\/p>\n
Then I looked around my apartment.<\/p>\n
Nothing had changed.<\/p>\n
The dishes were clean.<\/p>\n
My schoolbag leaned against the chair.<\/p>\n
The keyboard stood beside the wall.<\/p>\n
But everything felt different.<\/p>\n
Grandma wasn't someone I could visit tomorrow.<\/p>\n
There wouldn't be another afternoon of looking through concert programs.<\/p>\n
No more corrections.<\/p>\n
No more questions about my students.<\/p>\n
I picked up my phone several times.<\/p>\n
Each time, I almost called her.<\/p>\n
I wanted to hear her voice.<\/p>\n
I wanted to ask whether she was feeling better.<\/p>\n
Then I remembered.<\/p>\n
I put the phone down.<\/p>\n
Around midnight, I opened the photograph of us at the piano.<\/p>\n
The little boy in the picture was looking at the keys.<\/p>\n
Grandma sat beside him, watching patiently.<\/p>\n
I tried to remember what had happened immediately after the photograph was taken.<\/p>\n
Had I played the exercise correctly?<\/p>\n
Had she given me a cookie?<\/p>\n
Had Grandpa walked into the room?<\/p>\n
I couldn't remember.<\/p>\n
That frightened me.<\/p>\n
There were so many small moments I had assumed would remain clear forever.<\/p>\n
Now some of them were already fading.<\/p>\n
I opened a notebook.<\/p>\n
Then I began writing.<\/p>\n
Not about the piano sale.<\/p>\n
Not about the Mercedes.<\/p>\n
Not about the trust.<\/p>\n
I wrote about Grandma.<\/p>\n
The way she folded her reading glasses.<\/p>\n
The way she pronounced certain composers' names.<\/p>\n
How she kept lavender in little cloth sachets.<\/p>\n
How she'd raise one eyebrow when I rushed a difficult passage.<\/p>\n
I wrote until my hand hurt.<\/p>\n
Then I went to bed.<\/p>\n
I still couldn't sleep.<\/p>\n
At seven, Joan called.<\/p>\n
She asked whether I'd eaten.<\/p>\n
I told her I hadn't.<\/p>\n
She said she was coming over.<\/p>\n
I didn't argue.<\/p>\n
An hour later, she arrived carrying groceries.<\/p>\n
Bread.<\/p>\n
Eggs.<\/p>\n
Fruit.<\/p>\n
Coffee.<\/p>\n
She put everything away without making a fuss.<\/p>\n
Then she made breakfast.<\/p>\n
We sat across from each other at my small kitchen table.<\/p>\n
For several minutes, neither of us spoke.<\/p>\n
Then Joan asked about Grandma's final hours.<\/p>\n
I told her what I remembered.<\/p>\n
The little melody I'd played on my phone.<\/p>\n
Grandma smiling when I made a mistake.<\/p>\n
The way she'd whispered that I was a good boy.<\/p>\n
Joan began crying.<\/p>\n
I reached across the table and held her hand.<\/p>\n
She squeezed my fingers.<\/p>\n
"She loved you so much."<\/p>\n
I looked down.<\/p>\n
"I know."<\/p>\n
Joan nodded.<\/p>\n
"She was proud of you."<\/p>\n
I swallowed.<\/p>\n
"I know that too."<\/p>\n
For once, I didn't feel embarrassed saying it.<\/p>\n
Grandma had told me often enough.<\/p>\n
I was finally allowing myself to believe her.<\/p>\n
Later that morning, Miles called.<\/p>\n
He offered his condolences.<\/p>\n
His voice sounded different.<\/p>\n
Less formal.<\/p>\n
He'd known Grandma for decades.<\/p>\n
He wasn't simply calling because he was her attorney.<\/p>\n
He had lost a friend.<\/p>\n
We spoke quietly.<\/p>\n
He explained that Grandma's estate and trust arrangements would now move into their next phase.<\/p>\n
The signed agreements would remain in effect.<\/p>\n
The outstanding repayment obligation would be handled through the established process.<\/p>\n
The piano matter would continue.<\/p>\n
I listened.<\/p>\n
Then I asked whether any of those things required immediate action from me.<\/p>\n
"Not today," Miles said.<\/p>\n
I felt relieved.<\/p>\n
He continued.<\/p>\n
"Your grandmother made careful arrangements so you wouldn't have to make major decisions while you're grieving."<\/p>\n
I looked at the photographs on the table.<\/p>\n
That sounded exactly like her.<\/p>\n
Even now, she was giving me room to breathe.<\/p>\n
Miles asked whether I'd like Joan involved in the memorial arrangements.<\/p>\n
I said yes.<\/p>\n
Then he told me something I hadn't known.<\/p>\n
"Loretta left written instructions about the service."<\/p>\n
I sat straighter.<\/p>\n
"She did?"<\/p>\n
"Yes."<\/p>\n
I almost smiled.<\/p>\n
Of course she had.<\/p>\n
"May I see them?"<\/p>\n
"I'll arrange for you and Joan to review them."<\/p>\n
I thanked him.<\/p>\n
Then I ended the call.<\/p>\n
I sat beside the kitchen table for a long time.<\/p>\n
Grandma had planned for things I couldn't bear to think about.<\/p>\n
Not because she was cold.<\/p>\n
Because she didn't want the people she loved arguing when they were grieving.<\/p>\n
I wished my father understood that.<\/p>\n
He called that afternoon.<\/p>\n
His name appeared on my screen.<\/p>\n
I stared at it.<\/p>\n
For a moment, I considered letting it ring.<\/p>\n
Then I answered.<\/p>\n
"Hello?"<\/p>\n
He was quiet.<\/p>\n
I waited.<\/p>\n
Finally, he spoke.<\/p>\n
"I heard about Mother."<\/p>\n
I swallowed.<\/p>\n
"Yes."<\/p>\n
Another silence.<\/p>\n
"Why didn't you call me?"<\/p>\n
I closed my eyes.<\/p>\n
I had known he might ask.<\/p>\n
I had been too devastated to call anyone except Joan.<\/p>\n
Trish had followed the hospice's notification arrangements.<\/p>\n
Miles had been informed.<\/p>\n
I hadn't been thinking about managing my father's feelings.<\/p>\n
"I couldn't talk last night."<\/p>\n
Dad sighed.<\/p>\n
"I'm her son."<\/p>\n
"I know."<\/p>\n
"I should have been told immediately."<\/p>\n
I looked toward Grandma's photograph.<\/p>\n
"I was holding her hand when she died."<\/p>\n
My voice cracked.<\/p>\n
Dad said nothing.<\/p>\n
I continued.<\/p>\n
"I wasn't thinking about phone calls."<\/p>\n
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.<\/p>\n
Then his tone softened.<\/p>\n
"Was she comfortable?"<\/p>\n
I swallowed.<\/p>\n
"Yes."<\/p>\n
He breathed out.<\/p>\n
"Good."<\/p>\n
I waited.<\/p>\n
For one brief moment, I thought we might have an honest conversation.<\/p>\n
Perhaps he'd tell me about Grandma when he was young.<\/p>\n
Perhaps he'd ask whether she'd said anything about him.<\/p>\n
Instead, he asked about the funeral arrangements.<\/p>\n
I told him Joan and Miles were helping.<\/p>\n
His voice sharpened.<\/p>\n
"Why is Wexler involved?"<\/p>\n
I looked down.<\/p>\n
"Grandma left instructions."<\/p>\n
Dad exhaled sharply.<\/p>\n
"That man has interfered enough."<\/p>\n
I felt something inside me close.<\/p>\n
Even now.<\/p>\n
Even after Grandma's death.<\/p>\n
He couldn't stop thinking about control.<\/p>\n
"Dad, I'm not discussing the legal matters today."<\/p>\n
He sounded offended.<\/p>\n
"I'm her son."<\/p>\n
"I know."<\/p>\n
"I have a right to be involved."<\/p>\n
"You can speak with Miles and Joan about the arrangements."<\/p>\n
He didn't answer immediately.<\/p>\n
Then he said, "Your grandmother's final wishes shouldn't be used to keep me away from my own family."<\/p>\n
I rubbed my forehead.<\/p>\n
"Nobody said you couldn't attend."<\/p>\n
He paused.<\/p>\n
"Fine."<\/p>\n
Then the call ended.<\/p>\n
I sat quietly.<\/p>\n
I felt sad for him.<\/p>\n
Not because he'd lost his control over the house.<\/p>\n
Because he'd lost his mother.<\/p>\n
And even now, he seemed unable to separate grief from authority.<\/p>\n
Two days later, Joan and I met with Miles.<\/p>\n
He showed us Grandma's memorial instructions.<\/p>\n
She wanted a small service.<\/p>\n
Music.<\/p>\n
Photographs.<\/p>\n
No elaborate decorations.<\/p>\n
No speeches about wealth.<\/p>\n
No discussion of property.<\/p>\n
She had selected several pieces she'd loved.<\/p>\n
She wanted a recording of her own playing included.<\/p>\n
I stared at the list.<\/p>\n
One of the selections was the recording I'd played for her during her final hours.<\/p>\n
My eyes filled.<\/p>\n
Joan touched my shoulder.<\/p>\n
Miles waited until I could continue.<\/p>\n
There was also a short handwritten note.<\/p>\n
Grandma had written:<\/p>\n
"I want people to remember that I played, loved, taught, made mistakes, and tried again."<\/p>\n
I smiled through tears.<\/p>\n
That was her.<\/p>\n
No grand language.<\/p>\n
No attempts to make herself sound extraordinary.<\/p>\n
Just the truth.<\/p>\n
I asked whether I could play something at the memorial.<\/p>\n
Miles looked at the instructions.<\/p>\n
"Loretta said you could, if you wanted."<\/p>\n
I stared.<\/p>\n
"She planned for that?"<\/p>\n
He nodded.<\/p>\n
"She didn't want you to feel obligated."<\/p>\n
I looked down.<\/p>\n
I couldn't imagine playing in front of people while grieving.<\/p>\n
But I wanted to honor her.<\/p>\n
"I'll try."<\/p>\n
Joan squeezed my hand.<\/p>\n
"She'd love that."<\/p>\n
The memorial took place several days later.<\/p>\n
The room was filled with people who'd known Grandma at different stages of her life.<\/p>\n
Former students.<\/p>\n
Musicians.<\/p>\n
Neighbors.<\/p>\n
Old friends.<\/p>\n
Relatives.<\/p>\n
People I recognized from childhood.<\/p>\n
Others I'd never met.<\/p>\n
Several brought photographs.<\/p>\n
One woman carried an old concert program with Grandma's signature.<\/p>\n
A former student told me Loretta had encouraged her to audition for a music program when she thought she wasn't talented enough.<\/p>\n
Another remembered Grandma staying after rehearsals to help struggling students.<\/p>\n
I listened to their stories.<\/p>\n
For the first time, I understood how many lives she'd touched.<\/p>\n
I'd thought of her primarily as my grandmother.<\/p>\n
But she had been important to so many people.<\/p>\n
Her kindness had traveled farther than I'd known.<\/p>\n
The room smelled faintly of flowers.<\/p>\n
A table near the entrance displayed photographs.<\/p>\n
There was Grandma as a young pianist.<\/p>\n
Grandma and Grandpa on their wedding day.<\/p>\n
Grandma laughing beside Joan.<\/p>\n
Grandma standing with me after my graduation.<\/p>\n
And the photograph of us at the piano when I was seven.<\/p>\n
I placed Grandpa's picture beside it.<\/p>\n
The one with his handwritten message.<\/p>\n
I wanted people to see the love that had filled their home.<\/p>\n
Not the argument that had followed the piano's disappearance.<\/p>\n
Mom and Dad arrived shortly before the service began.<\/p>\n
Delaney came with them.<\/p>\n
Ryder wasn't there.<\/p>\n
I didn't know whether their relationship had ended.<\/p>\n
I hadn't spoken with my sister since the birthday party.<\/p>\n
She looked tired.<\/p>\n
Her makeup couldn't quite hide the redness around her eyes.<\/p>\n
When she saw me, she stopped.<\/p>\n
For a moment, neither of us moved.<\/p>\n
Then she approached.<\/p>\n
"Everett."<\/p>\n
"Hi."<\/p>\n
She looked toward the photographs.<\/p>\n
"She looks beautiful."<\/p>\n
I nodded.<\/p>\n
"She does."<\/p>\n
Delaney studied the picture of Grandma and Grandpa.<\/p>\n
Then she looked at the photograph of me as a child.<\/p>\n
"She really loved that piano."<\/p>\n
I felt my throat tighten.<\/p>\n
"Yes."<\/p>\n
My sister lowered her eyes.<\/p>\n
"I didn't understand."<\/p>\n
I waited.<\/p>\n
She rubbed her hands together.<\/p>\n
"I thought it was just something old and expensive."<\/p>\n
I looked at her.<\/p>\n
She didn't apologize.<\/p>\n
Not yet.<\/p>\n
But she'd said something she hadn't been willing to acknowledge before.<\/p>\n
"Grandpa saved for it," I told her.<\/p>\n
She nodded.<\/p>\n
"I heard."<\/p>\n
We stood quietly.<\/p>\n
Then Delaney looked toward the service room.<\/p>\n
"I should have visited her more."<\/p>\n
I didn't know what to say.<\/p>\n
I couldn't give her those afternoons back.<\/p>\n
I couldn't pretend Grandma hadn't noticed her absence.<\/p>\n
But I didn't want to punish her with that knowledge.<\/p>\n
"She loved you," I said.<\/p>\n
Delaney's eyes filled.<\/p>\n
She nodded.<\/p>\n
Then she walked toward Mom.<\/p>\n
I watched her go.<\/p>\n
Dad approached a few minutes later.<\/p>\n
He looked older than he had at the birthday party.<\/p>\n
His shoulders were slightly bent.<\/p>\n
He wore a dark suit.<\/p>\n
For once, he wasn't trying to make an impression.<\/p>\n
At least, not at first.<\/p>\n
He stood beside me.<\/p>\n
We looked at Grandma's photographs.<\/p>\n
Then he pointed to one of her as a young woman.<\/p>\n
"I remember that dress."<\/p>\n
I turned.<\/p>\n
"You do?"<\/p>\n
He nodded.<\/p>\n
"She wore it for a concert when I was little."<\/p>\n
I waited.<\/p>\n
He smiled faintly.<\/p>\n
"I hated sitting through those performances."<\/p>\n
I almost laughed.<\/p>\n
"Really?"<\/p>\n
"I was a child. They seemed endless."<\/p>\n
He looked at the picture.<\/p>\n
"But afterward, she'd take me for ice cream."<\/p>\n
I smiled.<\/p>\n
"That sounds like her."<\/p>\n
We stood quietly.<\/p>\n
I hoped he might continue.<\/p>\n
I wanted to hear more.<\/p>\n
I wanted to know about Grandma when she was raising him.<\/p>\n
About the years before I was born.<\/p>\n
About the person he remembered.<\/p>\n
Then Dad looked toward Miles.<\/p>\n
His expression changed.<\/p>\n
"He shouldn't be here."<\/p>\n
I closed my eyes briefly.<\/p>\n
"Dad."<\/p>\n
He lowered his voice.<\/p>\n
"That lawyer has caused enough trouble."<\/p>\n
I looked at him.<\/p>\n
"Grandma asked Miles to help with the service."<\/p>\n
Dad frowned.<\/p>\n
"She was being influenced."<\/p>\n
I felt my chest tighten.<\/p>\n
Even now, he was questioning her decisions.<\/p>\n
"Grandma wrote these instructions herself."<\/p>\n
He looked away.<\/p>\n
Then he said, "We'll discuss it later."<\/p>\n
I nodded.<\/p>\n
"We can."<\/p>\n
But I knew I wouldn't spend the memorial arguing.<\/p>\n
I wouldn't let the last gathering in Grandma's honor become another battle about control.<\/p>\n
The service began.<\/p>\n
Joan spoke first.<\/p>\n
She told stories about growing up with Loretta.<\/p>\n
About the tree.<\/p>\n
The pond.<\/p>\n
The candlelit recital.<\/p>\n
People laughed through tears.<\/p>\n
Then a recording of Grandma's piano filled the room.<\/p>\n
I closed my eyes.<\/p>\n
The sound was familiar.<\/p>\n
Warm.<\/p>\n
Slightly imperfect.<\/p>\n
I could hear the bench creak.<\/p>\n
The tiny hesitation near the middle.<\/p>\n
The ending she'd always played so beautifully.<\/p>\n
For several minutes, I forgot the missing instrument.<\/p>\n
I heard Grandma.<\/p>\n
That was enough.<\/p>\n
When the recording ended, I walked toward the piano arranged for the service.<\/p>\n
It wasn't Grandma's.<\/p>\n
It was a modern instrument with a brighter sound.<\/p>\n
I sat down.<\/p>\n
My hands were shaking.<\/p>\n
I looked at the keys.<\/p>\n
Then at the people gathered before me.<\/p>\n
Mom.<\/p>\n
Dad.<\/p>\n
Delaney.<\/p>\n
Joan.<\/p>\n
Miles.<\/p>\n
Grandma's friends.<\/p>\n
People who'd come because she mattered to them.<\/p>\n
I took a slow breath.<\/p>\n
Then I played the first melody Grandma had taught me.<\/p>\n
It was simple.<\/p>\n
Almost embarrassingly simple.<\/p>\n
The kind of exercise I used with beginners.<\/p>\n
But I wanted to begin where she had begun with me.<\/p>\n
I played slowly.<\/p>\n
Then I moved into a longer piece she'd loved.<\/p>\n
At first, my fingers felt stiff.<\/p>\n
I could feel the room watching.<\/p>\n
Then I remembered her voice.<\/p>\n
Listen.<\/p>\n
Don't rush.<\/p>\n
I relaxed my shoulders.<\/p>\n
The notes came more easily.<\/p>\n
I played without thinking about my father.<\/p>\n
Without wondering whether the audience was impressed.<\/p>\n
Without trying to prove anything.<\/p>\n
When I finished, I rested my hands on my knees.<\/p>\n
The room was silent.<\/p>\n
Then people began clapping softly.<\/p>\n
I stood.<\/p>\n
My eyes were full of tears.<\/p>\n
I returned to my seat.<\/p>\n
Joan took my hand.<\/p>\n
"She would have loved that."<\/p>\n
I nodded.<\/p>\n
"I hope so."<\/p>\n
After the service, people gathered to share memories.<\/p>\n
I spoke with former students.<\/p>\n
With neighbors.<\/p>\n
With musicians who remembered Grandma's performances.<\/p>\n
Several told me stories I'd never heard.<\/p>\n
I wrote down names.<\/p>\n
I asked for copies of photographs.<\/p>\n
I wanted to preserve as much as I could.<\/p>\n
Then Miles approached.<\/p>\n
He had a small envelope.<\/p>\n
"Everett, Loretta left one more note for you."<\/p>\n
I stared at it.<\/p>\n
"Another?"<\/p>\n
He nodded.<\/p>\n
"She asked me to give it to you after the memorial."<\/p>\n
I took it carefully.<\/p>\n
My name appeared across the front.<\/p>\n
I recognized her handwriting immediately.<\/p>\n
I stepped into a quiet hallway.<\/p>\n
Then I opened the envelope.<\/p>\n
Inside was a single page.<\/p>\n
The handwriting was uneven in places.<\/p>\n
She must have written it near the end.<\/p>\n
I began reading.<\/p>\n
"My dear Everett, if you're holding this, then I've gone somewhere you can't visit after school."<\/p>\n
I laughed through tears.<\/p>\n
That was exactly the kind of joke she'd make.<\/p>\n
I continued.<\/p>\n
"I hope you remember me in the ordinary moments. When a student finally gets a note right. When you make tea. When you sit down to play because your heart needs it."<\/p>\n
I stopped.<\/p>\n
I could barely see the paper.<\/p>\n
I wiped my eyes.<\/p>\n
Then I continued.<\/p>\n
"I know you're worried about the piano. I know you wanted to protect it for me."<\/p>\n
I swallowed.<\/p>\n
"But you gave me something better than a perfect ending. You gave me your time."<\/p>\n
I pressed the page against my chest.<\/p>\n
For years, I'd worried that I wasn't successful enough.<\/p>\n
Wealthy enough.<\/p>\n
Impressive enough.<\/p>\n
Grandma had never cared.<\/p>\n
She remembered the visits.<\/p>\n
The conversations.<\/p>\n
The music.<\/p>\n
I returned to the letter.<\/p>\n
"I don't know whether Calvin will ever understand what he has done. I hope he does, but you must not spend your life waiting for that day."<\/p>\n
I sat on a bench in the hallway.<\/p>\n
My hands were trembling.<\/p>\n
The final paragraph was short.<\/p>\n
"Keep your kindness. Keep your boundaries. Keep making music. And when you teach another child, give them the same patience you once needed."<\/p>\n
Below that, she'd written:<\/p>\n
"All my love, Grandma."<\/p>\n
I read the letter twice.<\/p>\n
Then I folded it carefully.<\/p>\n
I sat there for several minutes.<\/p>\n
People passed along the hallway.<\/p>\n
I heard quiet conversations.<\/p>\n
Somebody laughed softly while remembering a story.<\/p>\n
Life continued around me.<\/p>\n
I looked at the envelope.<\/p>\n
Grandma had given me a gift that couldn't be sold.<\/p>\n
Instructions for how to keep living without her.<\/p>\n
I placed the letter safely inside my jacket.<\/p>\n
Then I returned to the gathering.<\/p>\n
Dad was speaking with Miles near the entrance.<\/p>\n
Their conversation looked tense.<\/p>\n
I didn't approach.<\/p>\n
Mom stood beside Delaney.<\/p>\n
Joan was talking with one of Grandma's former students.<\/p>\n
I looked around at the photographs.<\/p>\n
The music programs.<\/p>\n
The people who had come.<\/p>\n
Grandma had left more behind than a house and an antique piano.<\/p>\n
She had left memories in people I'd never met.<\/p>\n
She had left confidence in former students.<\/p>\n
She had left love in the lives she'd touched.<\/p>\n
And she'd left me the ability to play.<\/p>\n
I walked toward the table.<\/p>\n
I picked up the photograph of us at the piano.<\/p>\n
For a moment, I looked at the little boy beside her.<\/p>\n
His fingers were carefully placed.<\/p>\n
His shoulders were tense.<\/p>\n
He was trying so hard to do everything correctly.<\/p>\n
I smiled.<\/p>\n
I wished I could tell him that the woman sitting beside him would remain the most important teacher of his life.<\/p>\n
Then I returned the photograph to its place.<\/p>\n
I helped Joan gather the remaining programs.<\/p>\n
I thanked the guests.<\/p>\n
I carried flowers to the car.<\/p>\n
I did the ordinary things that needed doing.<\/p>\n
Because Grandma had taught me that love wasn't only something people said.<\/p>\n
It was something they showed.<\/p>\n
And I wanted to keep showing it, even after she was gone.<\/p>\n
Source: us45.longbientruck.com<\/a><\/em><\/p>\n I didn't sleep the night Grandma died. I went home, placed her photographs on the kitchen table, and sat in the dark. My coat was still on. The paper bag … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":10467,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-10486","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-drama-sory"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/lastestdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10486","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/lastestdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/lastestdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lastestdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lastestdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=10486"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/lastestdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10486\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":10506,"href":"https:\/\/lastestdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10486\/revisions\/10506"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lastestdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/10467"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/lastestdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=10486"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lastestdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=10486"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lastestdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=10486"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nClick here to continue reading: PART 20: Months After Grandma\u2019s Death, the Piano Finally Came Home\u2014and I Chose a Future My Parents Could No Longer Control<\/a><\/strong><\/h2>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"