I don't have many memories of my dad being upright and steady and strong. I have a terrible memory and this bugs me to no end. I don't know why, because I should have more.
I was 12 or so I know when he was very wobbly and fighting with walking sticks and canes. I know that before that there were ups and downs, and from 14 on, he mostly was in wheelchairs...
But 10 and under, surely I should have passels of memories of strong him.
Sadly I don't.
I do know of a couple things that my memory clings to fervently in fear of forgetting. Times I remember him just being a healthy man.
Oddly enough they are of me at quite a young age. Weird how this mind of mine has worked and processed it all...
When I was five or so we would dance. Quietly just the two of us go into the dining room with the lights dimmed and turn on the record player. He would hold me in his arms and dance.
You would think that such a profound memory to me, that I would be able to tell you more! But really I can't. I just remember this. The feeling of him holding me. Him being my dad and holding me. Him standing and dancing.
I have done it with each of my kids...Tatum and Jake and I would turn off all the lights and dance in a mad magical world when they were little. They would scream in delight and beg to do it often. When Matthew came along he joined our dance parties. Those were the days that Mike worked late evenings and nights were ours to fill.
Now that Summer is our little one, and she is so musical, it is quite often that she turns the radio on and begs us to dance. The other day I stopped what I was doing and danced till we were both out of breath. And tonight when she grabbed Mike's hands and convinced him to dance with her for awhile...it made me smile to myself and remember my strong dad dancing with me.
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