My grandfather's wake was today. I couldn't bring myself to go. Last night I had a nightmare involving Cara and funeral homes. Without going into the details, it was enough to make me realize that viewings aren't my thing right now.
So instead, this afternoon we went shag dancing to benefit the local Hospice organization. I felt more connected to my grandfather in those moments out on the dance floor than had I been splashing tears on the lapel of his suit. I pictured him smiling at me and wished my family had been there with me. Pop loved life, and he would have wanted us to embrace these lighter moments together.
Tim and I just learned shag in these past few months. Dear friends of ours, R and J, asked us over to their house for an evening of lessons. R's first husband died many years ago on March 18th, Cara's birthday. R said shag was the only thing that eventually got her out of the house again, and it was during her evenings out that she eventually met J.
I have come to believe shag has the ability to heal many wounds, and allow the grieving to catch a glimpse of life again. I look forward to the day when we can pass along our shag steps to another bereaved, dancing them back into the joy of life again.