Piano Man and memories that hold us

It’s been a tough season lately—one of those stretches where the weight of life feels relentless, and the light feels just out of reach. But sometimes, it takes something so seemingly small to crack through the darkness, a tiny, unexpected reminder of the things that matter most. Today, for me, it was a song.

This morning, I stopped for coffee, and as I stood in line, the familiar chords of Billy Joel’s "Piano Man" filled the air. It’s a song I’ve heard countless times, but today, it hit differently. The lyrics began right at the part that always resonates deeply with me:

"It’s 9 o’clock on a Saturday, and the manager gives me a smile, because he knows that it’s me they’ve been coming to see to forget about life for a while."

My breath caught as those words wrapped around me like an old, comforting embrace. In that moment, I wasn’t just in a coffee shop—I was somewhere else entirely. I was back at Madison Square Garden, December 5th, 1998. I could almost feel the energy of the crowd, hear the roar of thousands of voices singing in unison, and see my dad standing next to me, swaying to the music. His voice was a little off-key, but it didn’t matter. He was so alive, so full of joy. I can still picture the way his eyes lit up, the way the music seemed to transport him just as much as it did me.

It was before everything changed—before cancer got real, before hospice, before the final, painful chapter. That night at the Garden, surrounded by music and lights, everything else melted away. Those lyrics felt like they were written just for us, a reminder that even in the chaos of life, there’s a chance to forget, to find joy. In those few hours he forgot about his diagnosis.

The people in line with me this morning had no idea where I had gone. While they debated between lattes and cappuccinos, I was being transported to one of the most cherished memories of my life. They didn’t know that the man standing there with tears welling up in his eyes was hearing his dad’s voice again, feeling the warmth of that moment, and finding a little piece of himself he thought had been lost.

In that fleeting moment, it felt as if my dad had reached across time to remind me that even in the hardest moments, there’s still room for connection, for joy, and for the kind of beauty that makes the heaviness just a little easier to bear.

When my dad met Billy Joel

Sometimes, we need to be reminded of the love that shaped us and the memories that hold us together when we feel like we’re falling apart. If you’re reading this and life feels heavy, I hope you find your own reminder—a lyric, a memory, or even a small act of kindness—that helps you feel a little lighter. Because even on the darkest days, there’s still music in the air, waiting for us to hear it. And there’s still love, waiting to hold us.