At that time and even right now I wonder, was it worth it? Was it truly better to have passionately loved Eric and to have felt the tearing anguish of his absence than to never have loved him at all? Most of the time my answer to those questions is a resounding "YES." Other times, when breathing becomes like rocket science and surviving is my only goal… I wonder if love is worth the pain of loss.
"I'm leaking" I said to my friend one day, feeling overwhelmed with previously mundane things. I couldn't hold the hard inside anymore. Without my permission, tears pooled beneath my eyes, poured onto my cheeks, and fell to my chest. It hurt tremendously to go ahead and feel the pain, but as the salty tears washed over my face, my soul released some of the pressure.
Eric loved to dance and he took every opportunity to sway with me to the music. Sometimes it was pretty and sweet like a waltz, peaceful and pleasant to behold. Other times (a lot of times) it was more like a passionate tango as both of us fought to take the lead, and often made others uncomfortable. We glided over smooth surfaces in lovely outfits but also tripped on tiny toys with spit-up everywhere. We zig-zagged and jumped to music videos with our littles. Here are a couple of my favorite dancing memories.