Dancing With Joy
Following on from my post about grief, I wanted to talk about dancing. In my growing up years dancing was everywhere. It was part of my life and my culture as an Irish American. Etched in my brain, in my wiring, are memories of my cousins playing the fiddle and the accordion in the kitchen with table pushed back while the rest of us danced. It was my summer in Ireland at the age of thirteen studying at Gormanston College when in mid-spin I was told I couldn’t be an American and know how to spin like that. It was all the Sacred Hearts’ St Patrick’s Day dances doing the Siege of Ennis. It was Saturday nights watching Lawrence Welk on the TV with my great uncle and aunt. It was in my parents love of dancing. My God could they dance and dance so well together. It was me taking ballroom dancing with a friend our senior year of high school. I loved dancing.
I don’t often dance these days. I miss it. When the kids were small, and I was stressed I would put on one of two songs…Dean Martin’s That’s Amore or Mambo Number Five and I would dance around the kitchen with them until the stress was gone and we were all laughing.
So when I was dancing the other day with the ghost of my father it was also happy. Just days after Dad died we were celebrating the life of another friend of theirs. She loved music and had a grand piano in her apartment. One of her daughters caught this moment when music and dancing took the grief away or may not away but lifted it.
May you have dancing…..