39. The Dance
Today is 1 day from the first anniversary of Dad’s passing. I’ve committed to writing 40 stories about him as that day approaches. Forty Steady Stories.
I wrote about Mom and Dad’s love for one another in an earlier post (#10). Our family saw that lived out in a myriad of ways, but one of the best was watching them dance. Mom and Dad loved to dance together. And I don’t mean at parties and functions; I mean around the house when a good song came on.
Dad and Mom were great dancers. (Despite the years of Teen Cotillion dance class at Trinity Presbyterian on Providence, I’m not sure that torch got passed to my brothers and me. I can still do the Pretzel, but it just takes 4 Advil before and after and about 20 minutes to get untangled now.)
Truth is, Dad loved to dance period, but he REALLY loved to dance with Mom. That said, it was not at all unusual to see him crank up beach music and start doing the South Carolina official state dance — The Carolina Shag — by himself in the doorframes of our house. Sometimes, he’d grab the edge of the kitchen counter and start doing the Shag shuffle to keep up on his footwork.
So, it was hard once he couldn’t stand or walk anymore for them to still “dance” together. As the saying goes, though, “Love will find a way.” Well, with a little help from Alexa — even though she was apparently asleep — here it is…
I’m going to ask you to pause for 56 seconds right now and watch this video. Trust me, it’s worth it.
That’s a 56-second clip from a 2-minute Mother’s Day 2020 greeting Mom sent to our family text. By my count, Dad is gazing at Mom for 54 seconds of it. He ADORED her. Can you see the absolute joy on his face when she comes over and grabs his hand? After waking Alexa up with a double tap :), Mom brought such laughter to his face and pure joy to his heart. That was in May 2020, and I’m so glad and grateful she made this video.
Fast-forwarding to a year ago today, December 27, 2020…
It took a few of us to put Dad in Mom’s car in Blowing Rock to come home to Charlotte. He was not awake the whole time, and it was clear that we needed to get home and get hospice involved upon arrival. Mom left with Dad in the front seat, and Anthony and I rode home in the van we used to get Dad around in the wheelchair. We knew what was coming, but we just didn’t know when.
We got home, and Anthony and I picked Dad up out of Mom’s car, put him in the wheelchair, took him upstairs to their condo, and put him in bed. He was still asleep this whole time. One of my most cherished memories of that day was after we got him into bed, Mom laid down beside him. She put her hand on his chest and gently patted him as if to say, “I’m still here, Steady.”
It was hard to be at this place in our journey, and yet we were all at such peace. Dad had fought so long and so hard for so many years, and the time for finishing well was drawing near. I’d told many people over the past few years, “I know where he’s going; I just don’t know how long it will take to get there and how steep the road is.”
But on December 27, 2020, it was clear that Dad was getting ready for the journey that only takes a moment for us — of this, I am convinced. I knew he would blink and wake up, as Paul says in 1 Corinthians 15 (verse 52).
A few verses later, Paul wrote these words:
“Who got the last word, oh, Death?
Oh, Death, who’s afraid of you now?
It was sin that made death so frightening and law-code guilt that gave sin its leverage, its destructive power. But now in a single victorious stroke of Life, all three—sin, guilt, death—are gone, the gift of our Master, Jesus Christ. Thank God!”
We were not afraid that day. There was NO fear. Even though we knew there was a short wait in front of us and Dad, I knew that very soon he’d be dancing in the doorframe of eternity — full of joy and yet, waiting for his dance partner.
