Thursday, October 13, 2016

Dancing With My Father




When I came home from work this evening I had the strong urge to play one of my father's CD's that I had gotten him for Christmas a few years ago and had now inherited due to his recent passing. I slipped "The Emperor Waltz" from its plastic holder and placed it into an old boom box type of player that I have. The first few notes of the classical piece played forth reaching the magnificent crescendos. I reached for Dad's picture from the many photos my husband and I have adorning our refrigerator; photos of all of our loved ones. In this particular one, my father is sitting next to me on our back porch on a lovely summer day from a few years ago. He is smiling sweetly while looking at me as I chatter away, my Italian hands flying from whatever it was that I talked so passionately about.

I held the picture in my hands as tears began to trickle from my eyes. The picture blurred, but I could see something else very clearly--I saw in my heart, my father young again. No longer the bent body, the aches and pains of his older years, my Dad stands handsome before me, black hair, twinkling green eyes and a smile--oh that smile. He beckons to me, reaching out his arms and we twirl together with the music of our favorite waltz. This was the dance we should have danced together at my wedding to Jim, but we dance now, giggling as our feet become tangled and we make up our own steps to the beautiful piece.

My father tells me he is well and that he has been with so many of his friends and loved ones who have gone before him. He asks about Mom, and wants her to know how much he loves her and how he will wait to welcome her home someday.

The music peaks and we twirl once again. I hadn't realized we could waltz so well. I want this moment to stretch on forever, but the music finally nears its ending. I open my eyes, still clutching the photograph of Dad to my heart. The magic is gone, the spell, broken. But I know each time I now hear that special music, the vision of my father and I dancing in the presence of God's beauty will warm me and bless me.

6 comments:

  1. Karen, what a beautiful tribute to your father. I thought of my own while reading this as my dad was an awesome dancer. God bless! xo Joanne

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    1. Than you so much Joanne for your comments.

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  2. Just beautiful. My sympathies, I am not looking forward to facing my parents passing away, but you handled this topic so gracefully in this heartfelt post. Thank you Karen. (Great picture, btw)
    Megan

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  3. Beautifully written. You might like this from my partner who passed from Alzheimer's in 2004.
    "Think of me as one withdrawn into the dimness, yours still, you mine; remember all the best of our past moments and forget the rest, and so, to where I wait come gently on."

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    1. Rose, thank you kindly for posting these lovely words on my blog as well.

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