Last week, VonMom made this statement about VonDad's guitar:
"If you're not going to play it, then you cannot have it."
Way to tough love me, VonMom.
So, went to breakfast Saturday morning with her, and assured her that yes, the guitar was in my car, meaning yes, I was going to class.
I went to Old Town - after I parked, I realized it was the first time I'd been there since VonDad passed.
Got myself in the door, got myself signed up for class, picked up a paycheck, and headed to the store to get the guitar tuned.
Handed guitar to dude in store.
Dude: "Wow. This is a really nice guitar."
So, I did go to class, knowing full well that favorite teacher man knew the situation.
"I will sit by the door, in case I need to leave."
"You do what you need to do."
Not only did I survive class, but ultimately, I enjoyed it. We played a few songs I had learned before, so it was easier than I had expected.
Whenever I looked up, teacher man was smiling in my direction, nodding his head - his way of encouraging me to keep going forward.
At one point, he said "It's like riding a bicycle." and I felt that that was true.
About half way through class, I found myself singing along and enjoying my playing, which I didn't think would happen so quickly. It was mostly bitter, small parts sweet, but I did it.
After class, teacher man said "See you next week?"
*sigh* "No, we're having my dad's internment. I'll be at the cemetery." *sigh*
One step forward, two steps back.