Soul, Man

The 12^th of June marked six months that my mother left our earthly world. My world. My life. Technically, it's now the better part of a year that she's been gone. Some days I feel okay as if I'm finally accepting it. Some days are harder, and there are days that are really hard. The weekend had two consecutive really hard days.

Even tonight, as I'm starting the post, my eyes are welling up. Sometimes the sadness is overwhelming and suffocating.

It's usually a fun and happy weekend, the weekend of my daughter's dance recital. Her recital is always entertaining, with “wows” sprinkled in for good measure. This was her 9^th recital. Wait-that doesn't seem possible, or right. Let me go check that. Yes, that is right. She started dancing in 2007, and her first recital was in 2008. Wow. Anyway, recital weekend is always happy, festive, triumphant and fun. Sort of like Mardi Gras, without the booze and flashing. Or beads. I'm getting hung up on details to avoid writing what this post is really about.

My mom was so proud of my daughter, and in all those years, she only missed 2 recitals prior to this one. One was because she had just gotten out of the hospital, and the other was because she couldn't walk that well. Even if I let her out at the door, it was a longish walk to the auditorium once inside. Oh my, the years both my kids danced, I think we had to buy her new blouses. She was just bustin' her buttons with pride. My mom liked the show and she liked to watch all the dances.

Last year, my daughter had a duet in addition to her five other dances. My mom was determined that she was going to see my daughter dance, even if she only stayed for her duet (which thankfully was in the first act). My mom did it, too. She got to see my daughter dance, and then my husband took my mom home. I know that took a lot out of her, but my mom was adamant that she was going to be there to see my daughter.

So sitting in the auditorium, watching my daughter's class perform so beautifully, I turned into a blubbery mess. The same thing happened at competition last month. One specific song just made me sob.

Lest I give you the impression that it was some gut-wrenching, emotional, tug-at-your-heartstrings kind of song, the dance was jazz, and the song was “Soul Man”, the Blues Brothers version.

Yes, go ahead and say it...because I know. It's not the kind of song that would make anyone emotional. Normally. Believe me, I felt ridiculous. It hit me like I was catapulted into a solid wall when I was at competition. I was fine, then I was sobbing.

However, there was a reason I felt that way, I think. This is my theory. As I mentioned, my mom loved to watch my daughter dance. My mom also loved the Blues Brothers. She loved the original Blues Brothers movie, Blues Brothers 2000, and she even had 2 Blues Brothers CDs. My daughter's dance took snippets from Dan Akroyd and John Belushi's moves and incorporated them into the dance.

 I think the whole experience was just too much to process. In an older post called Music Is My TARDIS, I wrote how music can instantly transport me to a different time and place. I believe that's precisely what happened.

I was remembering happier times, walking into my mom's house, and she would have the Blues Brothers blaring from her speakers. And I'll never have that again. Ever. It's all the little things about my mom that I miss SO MUCH. Hearing her sing. Hugging her. Listening to her stories, or crack jokes.

I never told my daughter what happened because I didn't want her being distracted during competition or recital. Now that dance season is over, I can finally tell my story.

My daughter in her "Soul Man" costume.