It’s a rainy day in NYC today. The skies are crying, as am I. This past week, one of my young students lost his mother. She was so present in his dance training. She loved to watch her son and every time she came to watch class, she sat straight-backed in the chair, all in white, with a perm-grin on her face. Since our learning has moved online in the past few weeks, we’ve been having all sorts of virtual assignments. She was so active during these strange times and sent me many videos and pictures over the past few weeks. We were texting just last week, and now she’s gone. It seems unreal. My thoughts immediately go to my young student. I see his big brown eyes: vacant, searching, questioning, confused. I’m hopeful he has some emotionally intelligent people in his life to support him during this difficult time. The little I know about grief, I have found that the mourning only gets better as it is shared. I’m so concerned for him during this time of isolation. So, this is my love letter to him and to his mama. I still see her big & bright, her body enveloped in gauzy white, swaying to the music when I think of her.

One of her favorite pieces of music was Erik Satie’s Gymnopédies. I found it comes from an ancient greek word Gymnopaedia. This was a festival of ancient Sparta at which young men danced and competed against each other. I hope that as her young son continues to dance to the dreamy and melancholy tunes his mother loved so much, that her memory can live on in him. Take five minutes today to hug your loved ones tight and be present with those you cherish.

“Lent et douloureux - Slow and painful ”