The music I played on my piano was my last link to my late husband. But cruel neighbors shattered that joy with a hurtful message on my wall. When my granddaughter found out, she made things right, leaving those entitled neighbors scratching their heads.
“Oh, Jerry, did you love it today, darling?” I asked softly, the last notes of “Clair de Lune” filling my cozy living room as my fingers lifted from the ivory piano keys. My eyes fixed on the framed photo of my late husband, Jerry. His kind eyes seemed to twinkle back at me, just as they had for over fifty years of our marriage…
Willie, my tabby cat, stretched lazily near my feet, purring contentedly. I reached down to scratch behind his ears, feeling the familiar ache in my chest as I carefully lifted Jerry’s photo.
“I miss you so much, darling. It’s been five years, but sometimes… sometimes it feels like yesterday.”
Pressing a gentle kiss to the cool glass, I whispered, “Time for dinner, my love. I’ll play your favorite before bed, okay? ‘Moon River,’ just like always.”
As I set the frame back down, I could almost hear Jerry’s warm chuckle. “You spoil me, Bessie,” he’d say, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
I shuffled towards the kitchen, pausing to look back at the piano, my constant companion these past 72 years.
“What would I do without you?” I murmured, running my hand along its polished surface.
That night, as I lay in bed, I whispered into the darkness, “Goodnight, Jerry. I’ll see you in my dreams.”
The next morning, I was lost in Chopin’s “Nocturne in E-flat major” when a sharp rap on my window startled me. My fingers stumbled, the music cutting off abruptly.
A red-faced man glared at me through the glass. He was my new neighbor.
“Hey, lady!” he shouted, his voice muffled. “Cut out that racket! You’re keeping the whole neighborhood awake with your pathetic plinking!”
I stared at him, shocked. “I… I’m so sorry,” I stammered, even as a small voice in my head protested. It was barely 11 a.m., and none of my other neighbors had ever complained before.
The man stomped away, leaving me trembling. I closed the lid of the piano, my sanctuary suddenly feeling tainted.
The next day, I closed all the windows before sitting down to play. The music felt muffled and constrained, but I hoped it would keep the peace.
I was barely ten minutes into Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” when my doorbell rang insistently. With a heavy heart, I answered it.
A woman with pinched features glared at me. “Listen here, old lady,” she spat. “The grave’s calling, and you’re still banging on that piano? Cut the noise, or I’ll report you to the HOA!”
It was only then that I understood she was my new neighbor’s wife.
I felt like I’d been slapped. “I… I closed all the windows,” I said weakly.
“Well, it’s not enough!” she snapped, turning on her heel. “Quit making noise with your stupid piano!”
I slumped against the door frame, tears welling in my eyes. “Oh, Jerry,” I whispered. “What do I do?”
I could almost hear his voice, gentle but firm. “You play, Bessie. You play your heart out. Don’t stop… for anyone.”
But as I sat at the piano, my fingers hovering over the keys, I couldn’t bring myself to press down.
Days passed, and I tried everything. I taped cardboard over the windows, played only in short bursts, even considered moving the piano to the basement where it might not be heard.
But nothing seemed to satisfy my new neighbors, the Grinches, as I’d started calling them in my head.
The thought of being separated from my cherished instrument, even by a flight of stairs, made my heart ache. This piano wasn’t just an object; it was an extension of my soul, a living connection to Jerry and our life together.
Forgetting about those bothersome neighbors for a moment, I lost myself in the music as I played the piano that night.
The next morning, I stepped outside to tend to my small herb garden. The sight that greeted me stopped me cold.
The cruel words “SHUT UP!” were spray-painted across the wall in angry red letters.
I sank to my knees and wept. “Jerry, I can’t do this anymore.”
That day, for the first time in decades, I didn’t touch my piano.
As night fell, I sat in Jerry’s armchair, clutching his photo. “I’m so sorry, my love. I just don’t have the strength to fight anymore.”
The shrill ring of the telephone startled me from my thoughts. I fumbled for the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Mom? It’s me,” my son Jacob’s warm voice filled the line. “How are you doing?”
I swallowed hard, fighting back tears. “Oh, I’m fine, sweetie. Just a quiet day at home.”
There was a pause. “Mom, you don’t sound fine. Is everything alright?”
I sighed, debating whether to burden him with my troubles. “It’s nothing, really. Just… some issues with the new neighbors.”
“Issues? What kind of issues?”
I found myself spilling everything… the complaints, the threats, the vandalism.
“I don’t know what to do anymore, honey. I feel so… lost.”
“Oh, Mom, why didn’t you tell me sooner? We could have helped.”
“I didn’t want to worry you. You have your own life, your own problems.”
“Mom, you’re never a burden. Never. Your music has brought joy to so many people over the years. Remember all those Christmas parties? The school recitals you played for? You’re not a nuisance… you’re a treasure.”
“Listen, I’m going to call Melissa. She’s closer. Maybe she can come check on you. And we’ll figure this out together, okay?” Jacob finished.
As I hung up the phone, I felt a small flicker of hope. Maybe I wasn’t alone in this after all.
Days crawled by. My piano sat untouched, gathering dust. I felt like a part of me was withering away.
One evening, a loud knock startled me from my melancholy. I opened the door to find my granddaughter Melissa standing there, her face glowing with a warm smile.
“Surprise, Nana!” she exclaimed, enveloping me in a tight hug.
As she pulled back, her eyes widened in horror. “Nana, who did this to your wall?”
I burst into tears, the whole story spilling out between sobs. Melissa’s expression darkened with each word.
Heartbreaking Update on ”Dallas” actress Linda Grey-
Linda Gray, who pIayed the legendary role of Sue Ellen Ewing in the hit show Dallas, had a life filled with excitement and a number of obstacles.
Recalling her childhood in Culver City, CaIifornia, she says how being given the chance to hang out with her friends around the filming studios triggered something in her that made her fall in love with acting. Her father, whom she describes as a rather cold person was always supportive of her career. Her mother used to be a heavy alcoholic while Linda and her sister were growing up so they had to take care of the house for long.
“She wasn’t falling down drunk, there was never any yeIIing,” Linda wrote in her book The Path to Happiness is Always Under Construction. “She wasn’t mean – she was just blurred, in her own world, she would forget to buy food so I started doing the cooking. My sister and I didn’t like her.”
Linda married her first and only husband, whom she separated with in 1983, photographer Edward Lee Thrasher, when she was 21. They had two children together, and although she enjoyed being a mother, it was her husband who somehow stood in her way of making a career in acting.
Although she was part of many commercials, it took Linda quite some time to finally gather the courage to attend acting classes.
In 1967, Linda was paid $25 to be Anne Bancroft’s body double in the poster for the film The Graduate not knowing that years later, or in 2001 to be exact, she would end up playing Mrs Robinson in the West End State production of The Graduate.
During the 1960s, she got a rejection letter from the Glamour Magazine, but that only made her more determined to succeed. “It was so funny that I kept that letter,” she wrote. “I kept the letter because I realized that we all have rejections, and it was her opinion when I was 20 years old. I could have had it devastate my life. But, I didn’t. This feisty streak came out – ‘Oh, yeah? I’m gonna show you!’ With great love and a lot of humor, I kept that letter. It kicked me from behind, and made me want to go and do something.”
After playing small roles, Linda finaIIy got the one that marked her career, that of Sue Ellen Ewing. She appeared in total of 308 episodes on Dallas and played alongside Larry Hagman and Patrick Duffy.
Speaking of her relationship with Hagman, Linda told CM Chat Live: “He was the bad big brother that I never had. He was always doing something in my mind wrong – he was drinking too much, or whatever, and I would reprimand him, he loved that, he loved to do something just to make me crazy. I’d say ‘Don’t eat that. You don’t need that much sugar, and stop drinking.’”
In fact, when Linda was briefly fired from the show for asking for a higher pay, it was Hagman who demanded she gets back.
For her legendary performance in Dallas, Linda received numerous awards, including two Golden Globe Awards for Best Actress – TeIevision Series Drama, as well as a Primetime Emmy Award for Outstanding Lead Actress.
Her son, Jeff Thrasher, followed into her footsteps and worked as a director. Sadly, he was diagnosed with leukemia and passed away in 2020. Linda was devastated. She had a hard time coping with the loss. Recently, she paid tribute to Jeff writing: “A celebration of my son Jeff’s life. He was the kindest, funniest, sweetest human being….. he brought the world such love and was loved by everyone! May his journey be a magicaI one.”https://www.instagram.com/p/CICmEWyrPUt/embed/captioned/?cr=1&v=14&wp=675&rd=https%3A%2F%2Fbengalimedia24.com&rp=%2Fheartbreaking-update-on-dallas-actress-linda-grey%2F%3Ffbclid%3DIwAR2dgWz6EFpC6RtaLAWwCBgR-BcaAhAdm0FRg147EhNfvC0WfZ9fCh18Swk#%7B%22ci%22%3A0%2C%22os%22%3A1751%2C%22ls%22%3A1148.4000000059605%2C%22le%22%3A1748.4000000059605%7D
We are very sorry for her loss. Linda is doing her best to live her life without her son. She is 82 years old and is looking as stunningly beautiful as always
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