Then, one day a few days before he left this earth to be with his father, Linda and I were in my room when we suddenly heard this amazing music coming from the living room piano. At first I thought it was a radio or something, but I soon realized that it was Alex playing that piano like an angel! I know that God gave me that moment to hear him play one last time. Thank you God. Thank you Alex. That was the most special gift!
Friday, March 28, 2008
Alex' one last gift
Alex had a special talent, a musical talent. Manuel and I never could figure out where it came from because neither of our families had that gene running through them. But, here he was, this musical genious. He taught himself how to play the piano at a young age. By the time he was in fourth grade he wanted to play the clarinet. I did not even know what a clarinet was. We bought him a small plastic one thinking that this wouldn't last long. Little did we know that he would grow into many beautiful and expensive clarinets, saxaphones, and guitars. Music went through his head twenty-four hours a day. He was accepted into the Boston Conservatory when there were two chosen from across the country. He stayed for three years even against the advice of his doctors, both here in California and there in Boston. He was getting sicker and sicker. Finally he came home for a Christmas vacation and was worked up for a surgery. It was a very difficult surgery with a long recovery. It was not long before we were well aware that this second surgery had failed. Now the doctors had no choice but to remove his esophagus. I could hardly believe my ears! But, he assured Alex that he would be able to play the clarinet as well as before. He followed the advice of his doctors and his parents and went through the surgery. He was never able to play the clarinet again. After the pain and frustration throughout the recovery, this was a devastating realization. Eventually he accepted things the way they were and found a new love, computers. He never gave up playing the piano and guitar. When he was away, I missed hearing the music in the house. He later became sicker and came back to live with me. By that time his illness had begun to attack his mental faculties. I remember one day when he sat down at the piano, opened the book, and realized that he did not know what to do with his hands or what the notes meant. My heart broke for him when he came and told me, "Mom, I can't play the piano anymore." What a sad day when such a thing of beauty in your life is taken from you.
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