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04-17-2012 03:49 PM |
A Night Remembered
The Drifters were playing and Ronnie Love was singing. The crowd came for a great show and they weren't disappointed. Ronnie worked the audience as the rest of the group played on stage. A man, in a yellow-striped shirt, stood and started dancing; a few more brave souls joined him with each song, like a prom in a high school auditorium. I sighed as a love song began, but my husband, Ken, doesn't like to dance so there was little chance we'd be on the floor. Watching others dance, my mind drifted away...
A beautiful, floor-length designer gown and high-heels replaced my jeans, sweater, and sneakers. His shirt, jeans, and boots transformed to a tuxedo and dress shoes. My cane disappeared and I stood with no stumbling, or stiffness, just youthful grace. All eyes watched as we moved to the dance floor and began a graceful waltz. I was dancing with the most handsome man at the ball, light on his feet and attentive to my every need. Every woman desired him, but he was mine. I saw the love in his eyes and knew he saw mine, too. There was no greater love that night. Though the band played a graceful waltz, we danced to our heart song. No one else existed in that magical moment...
The daydream ended with the touch of Ken's hand on mine. Tuxedo and ball gown had disappeared. Our clothes, although not new, were clean and presentable. His boots, my sneakers, were comfortable and clean. We dressed for comfort, not style. At 50, being fashionable didn't matter so much.
I noticed an old couple dancing by the table behind us. Hours earlier, we were watching people arriving for the concert. The couple had caught my eye, as they slowly, entered the room hand-in-hand. He wore jeans, sneakers and a slightly worn black t-shirt. She wore comfortable, old-people shoes, knit pants and a flowered, buttoned blouse. The rhythmic puffs from the red tank slung over her shoulder, delivered oxygen to her lungs. Though they looked like they'd been married forever, they didn't act like it. They smiled, talked, and touched as if they were stuck in the first years of married life. I remembered thinking how wonderful it was to watch an old married couple still acting like newlyweds and wished we still held hands as we walked together. I turned to point them out to my husband but lost them in the crowd.
I sighed as the unmistakable music of UNCHAINED MELODY, the most romantic song ever written, began to play. Is there another song for slow dancing? At the table next to us, the old man helped his wife stand. He was lean; she more than a little stout. No way, they'll be able to dance to that song, I thought and turned away to say something about it to Ken. When I looked back, they were dancing cheek-to-cheek.
He bent over that tank, his cheek pressed to hers, his arms circling her as they danced. In my callous youth, I would've snickered at the ridiculous sight. However, years of love with a good man and a perspective from the embrace of a disease, helped me see romance not humor in their obvious loving embrace. I wondered if we would come up with the same solution in a similar situation or decide it was impossible and just enjoy the music. We decided early on to fight this disease together, adjusting and adapting when necessary. Dancing before my eyes were a couple doing exactly that. I knew no matter how difficult the struggle, we too, would be dancing for a long time to come.
There was magic in the air that night. I thought I heard Ken ask me to dance, but that was impossible. He repeated the question and I said, "Yes!" He rose from the table and held out his arm in assistance. I slowly rose, stiffened muscles protesting. My cane and purse stayed on the table since both would've been in the way. He caught me as I stumbled into his arms. No one in that crowd of Parkinson's Disease sufferers and caregivers snickered; they too, knew how it slowly trapped your mind in a body no longer willing to do your bidding. Ken and I know what we have waiting for us in the future, but live for right now. We sat down when the music ended. It's such a wonderful feeling to hold him and have him hold me as we danced.
One dance was enough for the both of us. That old couple danced to almost every one. As I watched them my mind drifted once again... The oxygen tank between them disappeared. They transformed into a young, newlywed couple. His t-shirt and work pants became a tuxedo and her flowered top and knit pants a beautiful ball gown, her curly hair perfectly coiffed. They danced gracefully around the floor as all eyes watched enviously. The women wanted to be with him, the men with her.
An example of love, they inspired my imagination and I feverishly placed my thoughts on any paper I could find. A few days later, I told a friend how they inspired me, and learned they were newlyweds. Widow and widower, they met in church, fell in love, and married. An inspiring couple, they prove all things are possible: love can overcome obstacles, and knows no limits.
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