This is a story of an old church pianist who owned a church after it closed and lived in it. He has just been told that his house is being destroyed due to its age, I am only showing you a small part of it because it's my favourite part of the story...


I stood there looking around the home that I lived in, I worked in, and played my very best and worst in this place. As I walked down the aisle memories started flooding in, I remembered watching my beautiful wife walk down the aisle in her wedding dress holding onto her fathers hand, she was just so beautiful.
20 years later she passed away of a heart attack. I remember it so vividly like it was just yesterday; it was in the middle of August and we were sitting at the café. She ordered a frappé with skim milk, and then it all went wrong. She dropped her coffee onto the cobblestone floor as she grabbed at her chest thinking that she could tear her heart out. I knew something was wrong so I took her to the hospital. I stayed there for hours as the doctors tried to keep her heart going, when they finally came out their faces were grim.
So she went down that same aisle her father holding her hand one last time in the church that she had once walked through so proudly before, but she always so beautiful.
So as I walked down that aisle I started to cry as I trudged forward.