You never liked to dance…
You probably still don’t.
You weren’t big on music,
But I think that’s better now.
It was beautiful… So much magic, so much laughter. My hands around your neck, yours around my waist.
I don’t know what to call that dance; we danced it anyway.
Two steps to the left, one to the right, four forward, three backwards. No rhythm, no sequence. Just love, and happiness, and a lot of spontaneity.
Our very last dance.
It was at Wendy’s wedding. You knew I wanted to dance… I did, so badly. I would have walked on to the dance floor even if the page boy had asked me.
But to my utter astonishment, you asked me to dance.
My calm, reserved,quiet gentleman of a man, who never challenged the status quo.
Everyone knew you had two left feet… Feet that could move to no rhythm whatsoever.
The feet that danced away all my anxiety.
The floor wasn’t that crowded. So we got the stares. Yet we still danced. You danced me straight to elation that night.
I know you remember the dance really well. I know you keep beating yourself…
Even if we’d had more, there would still have been a last dance.
Today, they hang immovable and shrunken. The have no function. But they gave me that last dance.
The music was good. The laughter was fun! The movements were crazy, the dance was great.
I don’t care that they lost their function, and may soon lose their structure. I only care that our last dance, will remain in my heart a thousand years to come.
I know also that I can still sit in your laps even in that wheelchair, and relive that last dance.
Our very own dance…
… Two steps to the left, one to the right, four forward, three backwards. No rhythm, no sequence….
Just like our life… No rhythm, no sequence… No assurances…
Dwindled or not, I love those legs. They gave me a beautiful last dance.