The Last Waltz?

My sister, Nikki, passed away Monday Jan 20 with ALS (Lou Gehrig’s Disease). It was a long and tortuous journey in which she slowly lost her ability to walk, talk, swallow and toilet herself. 

As we lived in different provinces, our recent contact was limited to three visits, once at my daughter’s wedding and twice at my brother’s place where she was receiving loving care. With each visit, her faculties diminished.

Nevertheless, each time afforded some special moments. I accredit this partly to a personal affliction: I can’t sit for any length of time with music playing without getting up and moving. These days they would diagnose this as ADHD. I call it dancer’s syndrome. Usually, this is a solo improvisation. Quite unexpectedly, on our latest visits, my sister got up to join me. What started as herky-jerky, free-form transitioned into a soft, close-embrace shuffle.

As a result of childhood trauma, it has been for me a lifelong learning to appreciate and trust physical contact. Overcoming this inhibition and paranoia has been perhaps my principal incentive in learning to dance tango. Through this practice, I have learned to identify how “good touch” feels, how to respect boundaries, and how to move in consort with someone in a complimentary and consensual way. I have grown to appreciate the blessedness of touch, the gift of a hug, a hand on the shoulder, cheek pressed lightly against cheek.

But I am a slow learner. Brother dances with sister: is this appropriate? creepy? silly? The hypervigilance of a trauma survivor persists, even if only a niggling in the dark recesses of my monkey brain. 

And yet the preciousness of this connection remains. Reflecting on our last visits, I remember nothing of the conversations, which were limited and strained. I do, however, remember the dancing. 

Sometimes – maybe always – the most powerful connection any of us can have is as two embodied souls swaying slowly to the music, sharing care and attention in silence.

Weirdness Warning:

It is my belief that in the next dimension (often named heaven or the afterlife), all communication is non-verbal and intimate. Instead of struggling through the ambiguous, tedious medium of language, we will freely move in and out of each other’s energetic spheres without boundaries or inhibitions. In the words of St. Paul, “We will know even as we have been known.” 

In other words, eternity is a perpetual dance. That was not my last waltz with my sister. There will be more. All quite heavenly.