The Dance

Once again, too lazy to write an official blog post, so I am paraphrasing an email I recently wrote.

Even though daddy is no longer at the nursing home, my brother or I return nearly every day to visit with the friends we have made there.

One of my many favorite residents is Marilyn. She is a wheelchair-bound woman in her late 50’s. She is developmentally disabled and has a wonderful sense of humor. We all adore her. As usual last night, she was sitting by the nurse’s station listening to music. Also, as usual, I danced for/with her and sang along with the music in my own off-key way.

I danced to “Baby, I Need Your Lovin’” and a couple of other songs that I don’t know very well (not that it ever stops me from trying to sing along). She giggled non-stop the entire time and covered her face in the cutest way whenever I hit a sour note (which was often)…then giggled some more. You have no idea how much I love doing that. I pretended to dance away and then danced backwards into her view again and she laughed so hard she snorted.

This went on for ten minutes or longer and by the end of it, we were both in tears from laughter. When I finally finished, she blew me a kiss and said “I love her” (it’s never I love you or I love him, it’s always I love her). I love it…though today, for some reason, my hips are sore…I guess I may be getting too old to do the twist and the Egyptian (just two of the many dances I attempted to do).

Needless to say, “the dance” is often the highlight of my visit. The nurses always tease me, saying that I have way too much energy.

Visiting the nursing home is such a liberating experience. I can fully embrace my inner child and be as goofy and silly as I want to be and know that no one there is going to wonder if I need psychiatric help (lol).

So, that is how things are going for me...

Everything is not sunshine and roses all the time, but it's not all clouds and thorns either.

There's no denying I miss my daddy...miss the touch of his hand, the smell of his hair, the grin he gave me when I said something funny or knowing that he was there for me. But now he is free of the body that was failing him and free from the pain the nurses said he hid from us.

There's a lot to be said for that.

When the snow clears and we can hike up the Mystic Lake Trail to Fish Rock, we will let his ashes drift away in the wind and the remnants of his earthly body will spread out over the place he loved the best.

His spirit, however, will always be with us.