“In case I don’t see you, good afternoon good evening and goodnight”– The Truman Show
I should be helping set up pictures and things at the church at the moment for my Dad’s service but I just can’t.
I’m having this weird feeling about the whole thing, not wanting it to happen at all, o r maybe let it happen but not have to go and I’ll watch a tape of it later when I’m ready, and at the same time feeling a weird jealousy over my uncles who are going to read the psalms. In an odd sense I feel like there is a tribute opportunity for me to do something and take a more active part in this whole shindig that I’m missing out on. And I feel like maybe I’m letting my Dad down by not contributing more. And then I realize that
a) maybe that’s just the pig-headed selfish performer in me kicking in
b) I can’t even stand to set up pictures as if my Dad is some kind of museum
c) I’m going to be contributing plenty of spectacle as I will not censor any loud wailing that wants to come out and I do not own waterproof mascara. Prepare for hurricane Jess. Irene, meet your match. oooo insensitive. Humor is a defense mechanism. and sometimes an inappropriate one.
Anyways, on Friday evening when my family and I returned from the hospital, my uncle doug- my dad’s younger brother- and I had a long conversation that tapped on theology, the whoopie pies that they sell in the bakery underneath the Magazine (yum) our experiences with death, and loss, and family, and even, dare I say….the silver lining of this very big ‘little black rain cloud’ (I’ll explain why Winnie the Pooh is important to me and my Dad in some later post. Also, I think I’ll be this for Halloween. But only if in true girl-on-halloween fashion, I can figure out some way to make a little black rain cloud slutty. A task I’m probably up to)
Anyways, part of my late-night
after-a-glass-of-wine talk with my wonderful uncle involved talking of course, about the effect my Dad has had on others, and how we in turn may help or hurt others around us. And he said who knows, maybe I form some kind of spiritual/helpful/annoying communication with people through my dancing or teaching.
It is with this in mind that I post the video from the show the Freelance Dance Project dancers and I did in the Aisle 1 Art Gallery a week and a half ago. The last piece was a solo that I choreographed with my Dad in mind. He couldn’t make the show but maybe I’m hoping that like my Uncle says, my dancing can speak for itself and send enough of a message, without me having to speak tonight at the service.
While it may look like this performance is saying ‘Jess is falling on the kind-of slippery floor and didn’t really plan space very well’ I hope that you see more in it- that I’m saying how much I love and will always remember my Dad everyday.
As the song says, “I’ll be looking at the moon, but I’ll be seeing you”