The Dinner Dance

I started writing this blog in the beginning of November, about 4 ½ months after Emma died. I worked on the first post, which became my “About this Blog” section for about a month before I posted for the first time. I knew I wanted (needed) to write about Emma, but it took me a long time to find a direction and purpose. I wrote almost daily for several months.  I was finding that the blog helped me move forward through time, albeit slowly, deliberately, and painfully.

That has changed in the last few months, however. As we approach the first anniversary of Emma’s death, I have an ever-growing feeling of being hurled backwards through time to that awful day. And the memories that demand my attention are those from the last months we spent with Emma. It’s hard not to treat these memories with suspicion – to sift through the debris of the scene, looking for clues we might have missed. But it’s fruitless. Nothing is gained and what is lost is the simple pleasure of a happy moment. 

All this is by way of introduction to a memory of a night with Emma just a month and half before we lost her forever. It happened almost exactly a year ago.

The occasion was a jazz dinner dance organized by the music parents association in our town and featuring the top jazz ensembles from each of our town’s two high schools. Emma was so excited about this performance. The two jazz bands were responsible for providing an entire night of music. Both her band and the band from the other high school had worked tirelessly to learn two 30-40 minute sets of music each.

The evening got off to a great start with both bands performing impressive sets of jazz favorites. Each band had a slightly different flavor. Emma’s band's music reflected the  jazz/funk leanings of their director, while the other high school band tended towards older jazz standards. By the time dinner was served we were already completely impressed by the talent and professionalism of both the groups and were thoroughly enjoying ourselves.

Emma stopped by to visit us at our table while her band was on break for dinner. She was one of very few students who emerged from the back room for a parental visit, so we were really touched that she had made the effort. She gave Peter and me both a hug and a kiss and asked us how we liked their first set. She promised that the next set was going to be even better. And then she said something that really surprised me. “You guys better get out there and dance when we play again,” she said. I think Peter and I were thinking the same thing. “Are you sure you want us to dance, Emm?” Peter replied. “Could be kind of embarrassing.” “Yes,” she said. “You have to dance. I’ll be watching.” “We’ll be out there, Emm,” I said. “We can’t wait.”

When they started their second set, Peter and I headed out to the dance floor, and started dancing. We caught Emma’s eye and gave her a thumbs up. And as soon as she got a moment when she didn’t have a saxophone in her mouth, she gave us a big smile in return.

That night might just be one of my favorite Emma moments ever. It was so full of joy, pride and affection. So I’m not going to dust it for fingerprints or look at it under a microscope. I’m going to trust that it is now exactly what it was then. An extraordinarily happy time shared with people I love.