That in it self shouldn't be a surprise for a couple involved in salsa since 1992 (please don't make the calculation!)
Perhaps it would be more typical of a couple of fifty somethings to be sitting at home watching 'Strictly Come Dancing' but last Saturday was different.
Having spent all day teaching at my Salsa Rapido 1-Day Intensive Course at Bar Salsa I was totally spent, but this time, my reason to dance outweighed my fatigue. In fact in my mind there were two reasons:
First, we had been invited by a wonderful woman to dance at a Celebration of Life, or as she put it, a Tumor Shrinking Party.
Last summer I had danced in a North London park with a lady (I'll spare her blushes by naming her) who, as we danced, reminded me that I was her first salsa teacher. This alway touches me deeply. I specialize in beginners and Improvers classes and seldom get recognition from those who, in spite of me, stay within salsa. They've moved on to higher levels with the latest movers and shakers and I fade into their history as is quite right and proper as any dancer's achievement is theirs alone to take pride in and share.
On the occation I'm credited, I feel the warmth of pride, the respect for their effort and I usually brush off their compliment with a comment about not giving refunds!
This dance was different as the lady (a perfect description of her) said casually, that she had just six months to live.
The extra line I give is not sufficient to convey the shock of hearing those words.
Cut to a few weeks ago when the said lady messaged me to invite Fliss and I to a 'Tumor Shrinking Party' My response was hell yes!
I've still no idea what that means other than to celebrate the moment and every extra moment of life it implies.
As part of our online chat, she informed me that Cheryl, one of my first students back in April 1995, had just passed away.
This too was a blow.
Cheryl was a natural dancer and as many readers will know, I never subscribe to the 'nature over nurture' debate (it's not in the blood!) and the internal racism it often expresses. (Google 'internal racism' before you throw any toys out of your pram)
Cheryl didn't just dance, she flowed across the dance floor like an elegant isotope of mercury. Her smile was so warm that when she entered the room I knew it was going to be a good night.
When we danced it was if we had been practicing constantly for years, intuatively connecting in a way, years later, I would term 'rapport'.
I'm not a close friend and I had no awareness of her illness until very recently but I feel her loss.
Last Saturday was a celebration of life, which Cheryl's loss made so poignant. It honored my friend, who's tumors have shrunk, and if I'm honest my life: the friends I've made and lost, the people I've taught, the Latin music I love and the sheer 'J'oi de vive' of dancing in my middle age as I did in my youth.
So what message would I pass down the line?
Dance as if there's no tomorrow and no yesterday, dance for the next heart beat and celebrate the last.
My only regrets are the dances I didn't have, and the people I didn't get to know.
Reality check: She (my friend) was busy making sure everyone ate. I was concerned I would be too tired for my i2i course the following day. We got to dance one dance: a bachata! She hates bachata as do I but we danced, and chatted, and celabrated life.
The best bachata ever!
