Before I write more about the Instep coping, I wanted to write about other things that have happened.
Yesterday, as I left work, I almost got into a head on collision.
I was turning left. A car was coming and one of the guys was next to me pulling ahead of the car going right. I decided there was enough time to cross over the lane of the car and get into my lane, so I hit the gas. As I did, my tires spun in the gravel, inadvertently giving me just the right amount of time to miss the white truck I hadn’t seen, but not get hit by the car in the other lane.
I don’t know–logically–why things like that happen to me, but they do. It reminds me to be grateful for the days I have, even when faced with difficult things.
The studio closed. This is a difficult thing for us to handle. Worse would be having been involved in a 3+ car head-on collision on the way to say goodbye to something so dear to my heart.
This isn’t to say you should down play that sometimes handling things is a struggle–denial will get you nowhere–instead we can embrace it, and be grateful for the opportunity to get to love something so deeply. That these fleeting days we do have could be filled with something so lovely.
None of us will last forever. We may very well live and die without our names being known past our inner circle. But if you live it right, that is enough. I’ve had enough friends die to make me wonder how I’ll be remembered, and I always hoped to be remembered; to reach people and leave a positive mark, to not be just another forgotten name in the cemetery. I wanted to inspire strangers and have them be grateful I lived. I felt I could never live enough, and feared dying with empty days that left me forgotten in a year.
That has changed now.
I’m not worried about more than those my arms can wrap around. Those whom I know and love. If I can matter to just one of those who matter so greatly to me, then I have nothing to fear. I do believe what we are all facing in losing the studio is a form of grief, but if we never knew hardship, we would never truly appreciate what we have. We would be living in shallow waters, instead of going all in.
If my friends had never died, I wouldn’t fully appreciate the ones I have in my life now.
My life can be full because I have known emptiness.
I take my camera, I document, I hug and tell the ones I love that I love them. I do my best to make the most of every moment because it could very well be our last memory to hold to.
And for that, I have no regrets.
I can look back and know I made the most of every opportunity. I can smile and take the inevitable steps forward to the days to come with confidence.
And when my last day comes, I know I can breathe my last breath in peace.
Jilissa told me some incredibly kind things on facebook. On the link to the pictures, she said, “Thank you for giving my studio eternal life with your photos! I will treasure them!”
And on the link to my blog post, “Emilee, you created a rainbow over this dark and sad time for so many of us. Thank you for your words…”
That’s where I cried. To know the person who inspires me most read my words and was encouraged by them…
I don’t know, I just feel like my life is complete. There’s nothing more I could ask for. I’m moved beyond explanation.
I hope to see everyone again.I hope this isn’t the final goodbye. More than anything, I hope they find the peace I know, and that I can see them forever where our toes will never grow weary of dancing.
That is my greatest hope; my prayer.
Started ballet late October of 2011 at the age of 23.
Began pointe training late August of 2013.