Back to Two Familiar Homes (Part 1)

Yesterday, I once again had the opportunity to play at two elderly homes. One was where my great-grandmother had spent her final months, and the other was a place I had visited just a few weeks ago. Visiting both homes on the same day brought back mixed feelings. Each place had its own atmosphere, but it all reminded me of why I started in the first place.

The first place was one I hadn't properly returned to since my great-grandmother had passed away. I did stop by briefly last week to talk to the staff about playing the piano there, but even then, that strange feeling still lingered. It still felt a little emptier. The halls were quieter than I remembered. When my great-grandmother was still there, the rooms were full and everything felt lively. But now, many of those familiar faces were gone.

So I instantly knew that playing the piano here could have a huge impact on the few elderly people who were still here.

The layout had two main rooms - one for men, one for women. So I decided to set up my keyboard in the middle of the hallway between the two rooms, hoping the music would carry itself into both rooms.

https://video.wixstatic.com/video/0670af_b3ddeedda31a4d51bdbf632c6a90cff0/480p/mp4/file.mp4

Me playing "Season Change" (ฤดูที่แตกต่าง)

As I started to play, one of the women from the female ward, someone who used to be friends with my great-grandmother, insisted on getting out of her bed to watch me play. The caretaker gently tried to stop her, but she waved off and shuffled her way to a chair closer to where I was playing. It took her a while, but she eventually made it.

When I paused between pieces, she looked at me and smiled.

"I'm sure your great-grandmother is hearing this right now," she said softly.

That line honestly caught me off guard. I didn't know what to say at first. I looked down at the keyboard for a second. Then I looked back at her and said:

"Yeah, I really hope so. I never got to play anything to her before she passed. I always wished I had the chance."

As I continued playing, I kept thinking about all the times that I had visited that home when I was younger. Back then, I never really thought about bringing the music with me. I wasn't confident enough, and honestly, it never crossed my mind that time was running out fast. Looking back, I really regretted that. I wish I had brought my keyboard just once, even if it was just to play a few songs for her.

Now I was here again, in the same place, surrounded by people in similar situations, and I couldn't stop thinking about how I had missed the chance with her. But maybe this was my second chance in its own way. Maybe, by playing for the others who were still here, I was honoring her too.

I didn't play for very long, just a couple of songs that I had prepared beforehand. But sitting between those two rooms, watching her friend listen so intently, I felt something quiet and powerful. It wasn't about perfection or a big performance. It was about connection. About sharing a moment of comfort, of presence, through music.

As I packed up to leave, I realized that sometimes, it's not about what we didn't get in the past. It's what we choose to do now, how we show up, even in the smallest ways, for the people who need it most.

This visit was special. But the day wasn't over yet.

There was still one more visit to make that day. Another home, another group of elders, another atmosphere altogether.

Stay tuned.

-Team