The piano was my refuge after losing my husband, Jerry. Playing was how I kept his memory alive and soothed my grief. But when my new neighbors spray-painted “SHUT UP” on my wall after complaining about the music, it broke my heart. I stopped playing altogether, feeling like I’d lost Jerry all over again.

When my granddaughter Melissa came to visit and saw the hateful graffiti, she was outraged. “Nana, they can’t treat you like this!” she said, her eyes blazing with determination. She wouldn’t stand for it, and she took it upon herself to make things right.

Melissa immediately sprang into action. She called a few neighbors I’d known for years and devised a plan. That evening, she set up small speakers hidden in the bushes around the offending neighbors’ property. As soon as they got home, the speakers began playing soft piano music, followed by a chaotic mix of barking dogs and car alarms. The neighbors were baffled, running around their yard trying to find the source. Melissa, always full of mischief, ended the prank with a medley of ridiculous fart noises. I laughed harder than I had in months.

But Melissa didn’t stop there. The next morning, a crew arrived to install soundproofing in my piano room. “Now you can play whenever you want, Nana,” she said with a smile. “No one will ever tell you to stop again.”

Sitting at my newly polished piano, I felt the weight of sadness lift from my shoulders. I played “Moon River,” the song Jerry had loved so much, and as the music filled the room, it felt like I was reconnecting with him and the part of myself I’d lost. Melissa, dancing with a glass of wine in hand, cheered me on.

Thanks to her, I found my voice again. I remembered how much joy the music had brought me, and how it was a part of who I was. Melissa had given me the strength to reclaim my love for playing and to stand up for myself. With my family’s support, I knew that nothing—especially not a couple of nasty neighbors—could take that away from me.

As Melissa left, she handed me the remote for the prank speakers. “Just in case they bother you again,” she winked. But I knew I wouldn’t need it. The whole neighborhood was on my side now.

I smiled as I sat back down at the piano. My fingers danced across the keys, the music flowing freely once again. Jerry’s presence was all around me, and for the first time in a long while, I felt whole.