To watch us dance is to hear our hearts speak. Hopi Indian Saying
I went to an all-female high school. In my Junior year we had a "Pop Hop", which was a dance for the girls and their fathers. Mom made me a pretty green velvet dress to wear for the occasion. My father was actually the "king" of the affair. I remember standing on the stage in the high school auditorium and crowning him with a cardboard-and tinfoil crown. It was a wonderful night.
Dancing with Daddy at my wedding was almost as emotional and precious to me as when he walked me down the aisle. The marriage has died, but the tenderness of the moments live on.
When my nephew got married a few years ago, I danced with my father. I tried desperately to enjoy every moment, but I knew that I would never be able to dance with my Dad again.
Alzheimer's and disability has stolen dancing with Daddy from me. It enrages me, and breaks my heart.
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