The nights grew long as Craig's process took hold; inevitably, the day would turn in much before we would, and it'd be "tomorrow" before we'd find some rest. I remember looking out at the twinkling lights from his 31st floor window much like I did when I first "came on duty" back in April. The street lights changed for traffic, the house lights were still on for the people inside--the lights always looked eager and inviting as if they were pin-sized bonfires of "activity". From the 31st floor window, the lights seemed to dance.
I remember being mesmerized by Craig's view the first time I entered his apartment. I remember his crooked, almost braggish, smile as if trying to hide his glee of the view and his sisters' compliments. We'd joke about the various one-liners he could use, changing the term "apartment" to the more appropriate "lair". He'd don his familiar "ladies man" persona or the uber important "lawyer look" as he'd stare out over the Denver skyline with hands perched on the windowsill as if contemplating the meaning of life. We still have pictures of that moment.
Later that night, as the Denver lights danced outside, I taught Craig how to Latin dance. He was my partner as Jill and Diane danced with each other. We danced until we were good and sweaty and our faces hurt from laughing. Oh, how I remember the devilish look in Craig's eyes as he finally caught the sequence of moves, and learned what he should do...when. He was an eager/fast learner, albeit a bit stiff in his hips. Regardless, he tried and, more importantly, he was willing to try and I loved him for that. He'd even add on to the moves once he got the hang of it, inserting one of his "and then I'd go like this" statements widening his eyes and sucking in quick bursts of air as if it was super cool and we should take note. The four of us would quickly spiral into making fun of it all, and pretty soon we were all kicking our heads back melodramatically and punctuating each move with a "pow" or "tadow".
The four of us would dance time and again after that night. I taught Craig "hip hop/dance floor" moves one night in Stillwater, and, once again, the four of us danced together in my compact apartment until we eventually fell to the floor laughing and exhausted. It was impossible to take ourselves seriously despite our best efforts. Too quickly, we'd incorporate "Mom and Dad" moves and fall into hysterics. This was a typical outing for us, perhaps not dancing every night but the laughing and genuinely enjoying each other's company. Looking back, it's a bit surprising to think that Craig was even REMOTELY interested in hanging out with his sisters but that was the norm--our coveted norm. A pod, a four leaf clover, our good luck charm. We completed each other in a way that will never be replicated. It was uncomplicated, natural, and loving.
The four of us complimented each other; we fit together like puzzle pieces-each piece unique, irreplaceable, and leaving a gaping hole when missing. To me, my sisters and brother were the lights of Denver that night--the dancing lights of Denver.
As Craig's process took hold and in the time after he passed, I'd look out on the dancing Denver lights and remember our night together, dancing. I could hear our laughter and our voices, see our bodies swaying while others our age would be at a club wasting time. Thank God we didn't waste time, but spent time together. How I wish for even more time now. ~E
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