But that's just her biological information. Anyone could tell you that. What I can tell you is how she got lost in the music. The way her hands moved when she indicated steps for a combination. Her love for Frosties. The way her soul shone when she choreographed. The way she laughed with us. How concerned she was when we went to her with our problems--whether they be ballet related or not. The way she used to teach us the tricks she learned during her life. Her "household hints." Her love of jokes. The confused look on her face when she couldn't remember what she had just danced.
Those weren't her final bows. You may look at the video, and see the shadow of a woman who no longer is...but when I look at that video, I see the embodiment of a spirit that will always be. I see passion, laughter, beauty, joy, and grace. I see how she captivates you. I see how she can take a simple movement and turn it into something that will take your breath away. You see it too. You see it, you just don't understand it. You can't.
You can't see it unless you knew her. She had so much passion. Passion for dance, yes. Passion for life, passion for friends, passion for laughing and loving and sunsets and rain and pointe shoes and chocolate.
You say she died. What is this death that you speak of? She is not dead to me. Sure, I don't see her anymore. But we never stopped communicating. She never stopped teaching me. I learn things from her all the time.
See, to us, she will never die. Death is something far too permanent. Those weren't her final bows.
What do I remember about her? What could I forget? How could I not know her? I know a lot about her, and everything I knew just made me want to learn more. She is so fascinating. When she danced, she mesmerized her audience. No one could look away.
Nor did they want to. Her presence was always astonishing. Before I even knew the details about her career as a ballerina, I knew she was something special. You could tell by the way she walked. Maybe the sparkle in her eyes. Maybe the way she listened when you spoke. Not so many people do that anymore.
The best way I can describe her is like wind. It can be strong, but gentle. It's beautiful, but dangerous. Impossible to ignore.
Impossible.
She has not died. Those weren't her final bows. This is just intermission. I don't know when the second act begins, but I know that I'll be there to see it.
posted by Peche @ 1:20 PM
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