With Great Joy

It is with great joy that I share with you what happened after my mother died. Doesn’t that sound like the worst thing you’ve ever heard? Surely, death is far from joyful. Well, reader, before you make the mistake of thinking I’m a bad person or that I don’t care that she’s gone, please allow me to elaborate. After my mother died, I learned the true meaning of the words, “unimaginable pain.” On April 24th, 2020, I felt my heart shatter to a million pieces as if it were a delicate piece of porcelain being smashed on the ground. Yet, every day since April 24th, 2020, I have learned something new, whether it be a new emotion, a new coping mechanism, or a new layer of grief. Recently, I learned a very important lesson: I learned to dance again.

I’m beginning to read a new book, entitled, “On Grief and Grieving,” by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, M.D. and David Kessler. In the Preface of the book, Kessler speaks of Elisabeth’s passing and the great impact that it had on him after writing multiple books with her. The first paragraph reads, “She always said that when she ‘transitioned and graduated,’ it would be cause for celebration since she would be ‘dancing in the galaxies among the stars.’” What a lovely way to describe one’s passing, don’t you think?

My mother loved dancing; I specifically remember going with her to Zumba class at the athletic club when I was a young child. I was somewhat shy as a child, far too afraid to dance in front of perfect strangers. Nonetheless, I loved to watch my mom dance; she wasn’t afraid of those strangers like I was. I loved the way she felt the music in every bone in her body. It rushed through her like a current and I’d find myself thinking, “I want to learn to dance, just like my mama.” I wanted to feel the music in my bones, and I wanted to be unafraid.

Regretfully, after she died, I stopped dancing. I didn’t feel the music in my bones, I simply felt a treacherous ache. I was far from unafraid, in fact, I was terrified. Now, I absolutely could elaborate on this pain I felt. Yet, this piece of writing isn’t about the pain I felt, but rather, the lessons which this pain taught me. Among all the things this pain taught me, a long list of lessons, I think remembering to dance is one of the most important. Remembering to dance is important because there is joy to be found, and it’s important to look for joy; even in the presence of great pain.

Last night, I danced, for the first time in a long time. I felt the music flow through my bones like a current; I felt unafraid. I danced because it made me feel free and joyous, and now I understand why she loved to dance. My mom has transitioned, she has graduated, but she dances, nonetheless. “…dancing in the galaxies among the stars.” I always wished to grow up and dance like my mom; I’m grown up now, and so, I’m learning. I stare up at the night sky, and if I look closely enough, I can see her dancing too.

I dance for you, mom.