Diary Entry for June 27, 2013

Quoting the song you sung on the way to our last Starbucks trip:
"Every little thing she does is magic... now I know my love for her goes on." -The Police (Every Little Thing She Does is Magic)

Dear Mom,

The thing about slow dancing is that it is the most intimate and eloquent way to spin in circles with someone.

Maybe I have been dancing in a graveyard for the last six years in the hopes that if I spin to infinity, it would keep you alive. But the truth is, I have to face the music. 

Nothing and no one can bring back my best friend. Nothing and no one can give me forever-- because it is impossible to create an infinity in a finite amount of time.

And honestly beyond all of the above, I am starting to get dizzy from all this spinning. 

No sequence of turns will hinge the fact that the songs I have sung and danced to with you have ended, the music has dissolved, and reality called.

In fact, today Dad is dancing with someone else.

The thing is, I truly admire that he found the courage to let go of your hands, the hands that lost its pulse six years ago.

Because it is so remarkable and admirable to learn how to hold the hands of someone else. 

And just because Dad found a new song to sing and dance to in the arms of someone else does not take away from the steps he learned thanks to you.

Originally today was a day I had dreaded all of my life...

... the day I could count the years my best friend passed away with more than one hand.

But instead of counting the hours, minutes, and seconds for this day to end, I will spend today dancing—and not just in a graveyard.

Because I know that regardless of whom I choose to dance with in my life, your favorite song will always define what you are in my life— the ultimate Dancing Queen (yes, I still remember all of your favorite songs).

Mom, there may be no such thing as an infinity in our finite lives, but everyone can learn how to dance.

Love, Lela