Dance Lesson

by Jimi



Dancing Down the Beach Away From Me

Saying good-by forever is difficult, as difficult as it gets. Some have the chance before death to say I love you and know it is the last time. Usually however, such a chance is not given, and it is after death that we say a final good-by.

In just such a place was I, as I drove to the beach one last time, with the love of my life, Sue, my dog Tasha, and a Bible. We went back to a place that was one of our favorites, where we were once photographed, a picture that is special to me. It was like so many other days with her – sunny, happy, breath-takingly beautiful coast and pristine beaches with no one on them but us. I parked on the bluff and endeavored to gather courage. I was not certain I could let go of even one spec of the dust that remained of her. I had thoughts that maybe if I held on to every bit of her I could save a drop of feeling her of softness, or one more moment of vivid memory.

The crescent beach stretched out before me and the sun warmed my skin. I spotted an isolated group of rocks at the other end and as I did a gust of wind blew strength into my face, assuring me there was peace there.

Sue’s earthly remains are now just ash, at the time still in a bag in a box marked with a metal tag like a dog license. I put her in my pack with a bottle of old red wine and grabbed my guitar and a sand chair. My dog led us enthusiastically down the trail that follows a creek and safely discharged us down an embankment and onto the beach. Immediately upon the sand Tasha danced excitedly knowing it time to have fun. She jumped up towards me and then jumped up again and spun around, then pounced viciously upon a stick in the sand. She was a puppy again as we fetched and fought over wood.



Again I wondered if I could do it. What if I held her body just a little longer? Could it possibly relieve me of any of my grief? I wonder what she feels like now? Again the wind blew my face – “Go!”

After a bit of a walk we settled in by the previously identified rocks. A small stream flowed to the sea there and formed a bit of a waterfall on the rocks behind us, giving us a little background music. I settled in my chair as the mid-afternoon sun and surf made reflections, and I played a little guitar. I opened the old red wine and it was special, full-bodied and “fun!” as she would have said.

I thought about Jesus’ Last Supper. I thought about Sue’s Dad consumed by cancer and three days in a coma, and responding to red wine on his lips moments before expiring. I randomly opened and read from the Bible. The messages were so perfect and clear that I cried. I found words of endless love, or unending faith, of letting go. I heard music, and I heard God.

“Let go! It is time, be strong! I love you Jim!”

I felt peacefulness come over me and I knew it was time to dance. My strength grew and my tears flowed, and down the beach we went.

I opened the box and inspected her, playing with her fine cinnamon dust. I felt it, smelled it and even tasted it as I rubbed it on my face. I wanted it to comfort me, like her skin so often did, but it is only ash and I am alone.

“How does it feel, Sue, to be returned to dust?”





I could delay no longer, into the water we went, Sue and I, and a skeptical Tasha. As the cold water soaked me, I saw an amazing thing. Crystal signs so clear I could not deny the presence of a powerful force.

As I grabbed a big handful of her and raised it to let go, a light gust of wind snatched away the finest of her dust and slowly swirled it into the shape of a spirit, an angel, a swirling of spiritual Sue. She danced down the beach away from me.

It was so clear I was momentarily stunned. I became short of breath and there was silence. Shaking, I again took a handful and threw it into the air. Dust became Sue once more and she swirled into amazing shapes, and slowly danced down the beach away from me.

This was so much like her that, despite my sobbing state, I laughed out loud!

“ Ok Sue! Go! Good-by Sue! Dance!”

More handfuls made more spirits. At times I it let sift out of my hand and this made rows of chorus angles, dancing together, slowly and smoothly, down the beach away from me. Small pinches produced small angels. Big jubilant throws made Sue big and jubilant. There in the thigh deep water we danced and celebrated. I cried and prayed and thanked God for Sue.
Tasha chased her down the beach in a way I had seen many times before.

“Go Sue!”

We danced until there was not much more Sue to dance with. The last Sue Spirit danced long and slow, down the beach away from me.

Wet and a bit cold I returned to my guitar and played something I never heard before. After a while a man and a boy seemed to suddenly appear from the rocks a little ways off, and Tasha proceeded to make friends as she does so well. The boy, maybe 4 or 5 years old, had a bright angel face and was quickly drawn into play with Tasha. The man was maybe in his early fifties, and looked a little like Jimmy Buffet to me, very much an experienced beachcomber. He admired my guitar and we talked music and mandolins, and he said he owned a 1964 Martin.

“You’re his father or Uncle?” I inquired of them.
“No, just a friend”
The boy proudly showed me a toy airplane he found.

As we talked a bit he noticed the box of Sue and eventually my story was told about how I was here for one last dance and to say good-by. The boy listened with direct interest, and tears formed in the man’s eyes. I let the boy look into the box of Sue. Then in a most elegant and beautifully simple manner, this happy, angel faced boy spoke:

“My mommy was taken away by bad guys who wanted her money. They only wanted her money but they killed her and we don’t know if she is buried or burned up.”

I could hardly believe. In shock I looked up and the man assured me. “It is true” – he mimed without a sound. He looked deep into me and I at him. The boy was so sincere and pure, and he stroked Tasha’s back as he looked at me and in the ashes in the box.

What pain is mine? Look at this boy and his acceptance! Look at his total joy that he sees in this wonderful day at the beach, in a playful dog, in telling his story to me. Look at his face as he peers into the box. “Watch this!” I said to him and released a fistful of Sue into the air. Like dancing on stage on cue, Sue swirled down the beach away from us.

“Sue! Look at Sue dance!”

“Wow!” he exclaimed enthusiastically. “Sue! There’s Sue!”
With encouragement he a grabbed a magical handful and threw it into the air. Big happy spirits danced down the beach. “Wow!” he repeated, over and over, new dancers forming with all his motions. Wind-blown wisps of wonder entertained us as we ran down the beach throwing Sue towards the sea. Overcome with tears I yelled at the sky – “Thank you God! Thank you Sue! I love you!” And the boy yelled with me - “Good-by Sue!”

Every one of those dusty spirits dissipated along the shore, but their images are forever etched in my heart. I will never forget the angel faced boy. The overwhelming presence of God and Sue was a rare feeling I hope to have again. I’ll let go of her. Reluctantly, I do let go. She is born again, into an eternal life, and all my love is forever with her and hers with me.

The angel faced boy and Jimmy Buffet eventually moved on, dancing away down the beach; but not until after we exchanged deep meaningful hugs. Clearly something happened there and we all knew it.

Tasha and I stood watching them and thanked God for the sunset. Then we wagged our tails and danced down the beach alone.

April 2, 2004
JCIII