I remember the first time I learned to dance. I was about 5 years old and it was a wedding of a close family friend. I just remember how beautiful and pristine the reception hall looked. With ornately decorated tables, and large bouquets of flowers I truly felt like I had walked into the scene of a Cinderella story. Needless to say, it was definitely not a place for me, and my Play-Do encrusted fingers. Yet, I will never forget my dad grabbing my hand and and leaning down to me and saying "Let's dance." He took me out to the dance floor, which seemed so big, and placed me firmly on his feet and swept me around the dance floor as if we were the only people in the room. He showed me how to twirl like a princess, along with which came my massive amounts of giggles.
Yet, it is funny how some things don't change. Fast forward about 20 years and here we are doing the thing that just came natural for us- dancing. Thus you can imagine I love everything about this photo- the lighting, our expressions, and the fact that in this small still frame of time it looks as if we are the only people on the dance floor, perhaps the only people in the room.
Thus this is where my dilemma begins. The last couple months of my life have been nothing but tumultuous, new, and cloaked with grief. Yet, the thing that I struggle with the most is the fact that I feel like I am constantly re-learning how to do the things I once new how to do with ease. You see losing someone that knows you better than you sometimes know yourself leaves you broken and vulnerable. Thus over the last 2 months I have been picking up the pieces of my life and trying to create something that resembles what it once was.
Yet, what I have discovered is that sometimes all the pieces don't fit the way they did before, and your are forced to create more of a mosaic of the person you once were than a replica. You see I don't think I will ever be the same. I will never be able to call my dad at work just for a chat, or call him frantically on the interstate as I question my exit, nor will he grab my hand for just one more dance at a wedding.
Yet, what I have learned through my solitude and pain is that life is worth the dance. That despite everything, I know in my heart that my dad would want me to dance, to love, to feel, and to inspire. While I have never felt so alone, I also have never felt such love. I sometimes wish I could rewind the last 6 months of my life, that I could change the course of events. There are images in my mind that will haunt me for life, and moments that I will treasure forever. The truth is I miss my dad more than you will ever know, but when you are given the chance- you must dance.