Dear Dad.

I can distinctly remember the day that my Dad was diagnosed with esophageal cancer. I had just finished dance class when I skipped joyfully to the car, only to have my world crushed. It was devastating. Being eleven years old didn’t help much either. This was certainly a time in which I wanted to be home with my father. I had contemplated skipping and even quitting dance classes all together. At dance I was miserable because I knew that when I returned home, I would have to face the nauseating truth.

One day, I honestly told my bed-ridden father that I wanted to quit dance to be with him. He paused momentary, possibly to imagine the best possible answer. Finally, he looked at me with his deeply sullen eyes and humbly inquired, “Why would you want to do that? I’ve seen you dance. I’ve seen the passion ignite within you when you hit the stage. A timid boy becomes a sensational performer when you’re out there. I know you love dance; show the fire burning in you. When I’m gone, don’t let my absence deter you, utilize it—put the emotions into your dancing. When I’m gone… Be happy. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy. I will do whatever it takes to get you where you want to be.”

My father had always been a submissive wise man. He didn’t say much, but when he spoke, everyone listened. I followed his advice. After he died, I began to dance even harder than before. I gathered my emotions and brought them with me. I used them to my advantage to make me jump higher, spin faster, and feel the space filled with my thoughts. When I was finished, I left them on the dance floor for anyone to interpret.

Although this incident was a fucking nightmare, it has helped my dancing immensely. Overcoming this obstacle has given me the strength to do almost anything. When I think of him and his kindness, a fire lights within me, causing me to push for what I want. He has inspired the passion within me, and I believe that with passion, anything is possible.

I wouldn’t really say that I’m completely “fine” now. I don’t think anyone can simply dismiss something like that. But it’s strange how you do “get over” things. You never forget, but you just keep living. After awhile, life seems livable again, but you never, ever, forget…