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Sometimes You Gotta Dance When Everyone’s Watching

5

August 25, 2013 by Renee

Any of you who’ve followed this blog for a while know that the past year has been rough for my family. When my dad was diagnosed with Stage 4 colon cancer in May, 2012, on his birthday, our world was turned upside down. He fought hard, because that’s what Dad did, but we lost him on December 11, 2012. It was fast, which for him was a merciful thing, but for us it was an exercise in accepting that we control nothing.

Since December I think most of my family has felt like we’ve been moving around under water. Every triumph is shadowed by the fact that he’s not here to share it. Every joy is marred by the fact that his laughter isn’t joining ours. Every heartbreak is a little more painful because we already grieve over his absence. It’s sucked basically.

Despite this, we’ve been given so many things to be grateful for this year. My oldest brother and his girlfriend welcomed a baby boy, Angus, in January. A grandchild Dad hoped he could hang on long enough to see, but couldn’t.

My youngest brother and his girlfriend are FINALLY expecting a baby, something he vowed would never happen. We’re all very excited. “Our” baby is having a baby and we couldn’t be happier. (Don’t worry, he’s since revised his views on fatherhood and is very excited) I think of Dad and smile because he’d be laughing his ass off at how Mother Nature basically said “Screw you guys, you’re having a baby.”

I’ve also had some success with my books. IN THE BONES and THE LEGEND OF JACKSON MURPHY are selling better than I expected and Crescent Moon Press offered me a contract for LUCKY, the first in my For the Love of Gods series. I’m ecstatic, but the happiness feels a little hollow. I know Dad was proud of me no matter what I did, but I’d have liked for him to “see” that I’m achieving all the things I’ve worked so hard to achieve.

But every time I smile, my heart aches, because I wish Dad was here.

I don’t want pity. I’ve got it pretty good. My mom, on the other hand, feels all of these things much more intensely. She feels his absence 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. It’s constant for her. I have kids and work and all that to help me forget from time to time. Mom doesn’t have that luxury. She feels guilty for any bit of happiness she feels, but wants to desperately to swim to the top of this watery grave we’re all in and begin living her life again.

Her birthday was on Friday, and we decided “Fuck it” we’re going out. Mom and I have avoided going out or drinking alcohol for the most part because we were worried we’d end up a snotty mess on the floor of some bar. That’s embarrassing. I don’t care who you are. I think my mom was afraid there was something wrong with doing such a thing when you’d just buried your husband a few months before. But we did it anyway, because that’s how we roll.

And I’m so glad we did.

This weekend was also the Tweed Elvis Festival. The entire town is decorated in Elvis memorabilia and the impersonators have invaded.

We began the night by getting married at the Bank of Montreal.

Married

I had to wear the pants, but Holly made a beautiful bride, yes? That’s me, with my big head that wouldn’t fit the damn hole.

 

And then we hit the Tweedsmuir, aka: The Heartbreak Hotel (yes, it’s spelled wrong).

 

heartbreak hotel

And then my mom started dancing.

 

mom dancing 1

And she didn’t stop for much.

 

mom dancing 2

“Young Elvis” even danced with her.

Then we made her do the required birthday shooter, affectionately called “The Muff-Diver” which my mom refused to participate in until we reassured her it was a shot and not at all related to vaginas.

 

Mom bday shot

Me and Holly made out with an Elvis too. We figure the alcohol sterilized the face sweat on our mouths. Right? Right?!

 

Elvis threesome

And my mom kept dancing. She danced so much and smiled so widely that strangers were taking pictures of her with their camera phones. Of course, we had to join in, because it’s dancing! The DJ’s equipment fucked up, leaving us in silence for a few minutes, but Holly saved the day with a fantastic rendition of “The Gambler.” She even found a few fans.

 

holly singing

A really drunk young man, whom we’ll call “The Golfer,” danced with my mom all night, after informing me that I had Cleveland hair and Cleveland is forbidden. I don’t know.

The next day, I realized that my body hurt, and I’m too old for this shit, but also that I REALLY needed that. Not the booze. I needed to see my mom smiling like she used to. I needed to see her let go and enjoy being alive. I needed to get up and dance with her like we used to do. Something about dancing like a fool is just so… healing. How can you be miserable when you’re dancing? You can’t. Not even if you suck, which we pretty much do.

We still miss my dad and we’re still sad, but my mom needed to give herself permission to move on; to live her life. I think this night of drinking, Elvises and dancing was the first step in that journey. I’m grateful I was there to take it with her. She needed to dance, but I needed to see that joy in her face again.

I’ve also unleashed a fountain of creative energy as a result. I was a little…I don’t want to call it blocked… perhaps stunted, with my writing. I could write and I have lots of ideas, but getting it out was really difficult. It’s flowing freely now and that’s awesome.

So, if you’re ever feeling down, for whatever reason, I highly recommend dancing like a fool, even if EVERYONE is watching. Also, a muff-dive or two brings a smile to everyone’s face. The shot you pervs, not the other one. But you can do whatever floats your boat.

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5 thoughts on “Sometimes You Gotta Dance When Everyone’s Watching

  1. Good for your mom. I know it’s tough to lose a dad or a sibling, but to lose a spouse has to be hardest hit of all. Your parents are about the age of me and my better half, so I feel her pain keenly knowing she lost her partner and the love of her life. At some point you have to move on, but it’s so gawd-awful hard.

    Your mom is the strongest person in any room.

    • Renee says:

      I agree, Maria. It took courage for her to go out and have fun, and I don’t think a lot of people get that unless they’ve lost their “best friend.” And she’s still in the process of moving on. I think this was just that very important and extremely difficult first step.

      For me personally, it’s been harder seeing her pain, so seeing her smile without the shadow of grief was important to my healing process. I needed to see that before I could let go of some of my own grief.

      So basically, I’m glad I got my mom drunk. 😉

  2. jeannevoelker says:

    Good job Renée!! You helped your mom and this helped not only both of you, but your kids too. For as we know, kids are little mirrors!

  3. authorlady22 says:

    Muff-diving is my specialty. XD

    I think you’re onto something though, Renee. I’ve got the same “stunted” feeling going on. Add to that the BS with REAPER and it makes me feel blah every time I sit down to write. Thankfully, Crystal’s coming home in a few days and she’ll make me forget it all. I’ll make sure she takes me dancing. 🙂

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Renee

Renee

I like to write stuff. Sometimes it's funny. I've published some novels and short fiction. I also battle an addiction to cake and potato chips, and I sometimes have inappropriate fantasies involving Kevin Spacey.

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