And We Dance.
Happy Birthday, Petey Sellers!
Dear Petey,
On May 1st, I danced for you.
It was our normal Monday night class, but it was just me and Meggie, Carter’s Mom and fellow canine cancer Mom survivor. Edgar, our amazing Zumba teacher played a bunch of old favorites, songs we danced to when you were still here. Songs that literally held me up after you died and became the soundtrack to your spirit connecting with me; songs that made me remember, but also mourn; songs that got me back in my body when I was too much in the other world and didn’t want to come back; songs that healed me.
That day, those songs made me think of you, and I smiled. I danced with everything I had, throwing my hands to the sky in your honor, cha-cha-ing like I did when you were here. I felt happy to be alive, grateful for the time we had together, but also grateful that, no matter what year it is or where I am, these songs will always remind me of you. I started dancing in July of last year, so you got to witness two months of dancing in the summer. It was too hot to be outside, so in the evenings, after work and your dinner, you sat on the couch and I danced in front of you. I’d danced the entire pandemic, but these were new moves, and faster, and sometimes they made you nervous. But I always talked to you while I danced, and the music was fun, so usually you smiled, especially at the end of class when I put my hands on you and transferred all the energy I’d just created into your awesome, cancer-fighting body.
When you came out of remission, we danced for you. When you were sick, we danced for you. When I was sad, we danced for me. And after you passed and I couldn’t move, the group lovingly danced for me and your safe passage. I’ll never forget when I felt you as a spirit in class with me the first time. It was during Mi Bachata, and we were crossing the floor with our arms held high, and suddenly, I felt you with me. Petey! You were there! It was you! And it was everything. I sobbed while I moved, dancing toward the screen and high-fiving my friends, which was part of the routine. Of course, you showed up! You loved giving high-tens. And, like a loose translation of Mi Bachata, you loved a good time, too.
When this song came on the other night during class, I danced with gusto, and lights flashed across the screen as we moved. I twirled, flying through the air, and suddenly felt ecstatic, connected to something bigger than myself. It was you.
“Petey!” I said. “Hi! I miss you so much!”
”Hi, Mom!” you said. “I miss you, too!”
The heaviness that had been in my heart all day lightened.
"Petey! My Petey! Thanks for showing up.
On May 1st, I felt his absence all day.
Something about that date, month piling on month piling on month, gray sky after gray sky, and the passage of more time without Petey. I knew it was fleeting grief, but I also knew May was more than that. In May of last year, we didn’t know the cancer was back, yet. Nina came in March and got to see Petey, and Sara came in April, the first person to sleep over since early 2020, and all of it was beautiful. He was so happy to be with his girls, again! There were so many hugs! It lifted my spirits more than I knew I needed. Petey did tricks for his meals, snuggled at night, and danced around in the morning. I didn’t know it at the time, but I needed a witness to his beautiful life, the one that he fought so hard for, the one that was in remission –- and to see how we’d truly kept each other alive during those past few years, and not just on social media.
Then, on May 12th, Petey’s birthday, the cancer came back. But we celebrated at the vet, anyway, with cupcakes and toys, and geared up for the fight. May was his birthday month, which I loved, but when it comes to grief, the body remembers. So while my body remembered that May was for celebration, my body also remembered that this was when we started fighting again last year, the beginning of the end.
“Mom!” Petey said, interrupting my thoughts. “Plant my tree!”
Last week, I hurt my ankle. I’m not sure if it was the kind doctor who had my foot in flexion too long or an enthusiastic new dance move, but when I went to dance, my body said “No! Don’t move that way!” I shook my leg out and tried again, but my ankle mocked me. “You think you’re going to cross over? Put weight on me? Think again!”
Even though dance contains all kinds of adorable pivots - the pivot turn, the forward pivot, and the drop-step – my pivot was to mark the moves with my feet and use my arms, instead. But my ankle was still cranky, so I waved to my friends, logged off, put on an old ankle brace, and went for a walk. My ankle often gets cranky in May, so I knew to rest, ice, elevate, arnica, repeat, but I was going for a walk, first. After a week of fewer steps, no dancing, and tending, it’s much better. It was a momentary pivot. But it’s also marking a pivot in my life.
This week, Petey’s birthday week, a white butterfly appeared.
The rains stopped and suddenly, there it was! It’s always one, and it followed me wherever I went. Writing at the back table, hello, hello! On a walk, hi there! While walking with Kai, my nephew, it kept appearing, block after block, like he was walking with us. I saw it in the afternoon, flying by my office. In the evening, outside the kitchen window as I made salad. And when P.K. came to visit, it flew around us and over Petey’s garden as we chatted. She looked up at it and we both smiled. Petey! Just like the white butterflies who surrounded me when he flew, this one moved and danced, all whimsy and light, and yesterday, it was around all day. Petey! You are nowhere, and you are everywhere, still! A visit! I haven’t stopped smiling.
Happy Birthday, Petey Sellers!
Today, you would have been thirteen years old, and we would have celebrated with yogurt and treats, grilled chicken and quinoa, a cupcake for me, and a doggie gelato for you, the very best dog. So, this morning, I took your walk and visited your tree, stopped at the poetry post, read a poem (Peonies by Mary Oliver), and talked with you. I planted two plants for your garden from me and Kai – a yarrow for butterflies and a Figaro dahlia because it’s joyful, like you – and drew a message for you in my journal, a few tears dotting the pages. But then I danced! And your friends showed up, waving our arms to the sky, in your honor. I’m making new memories that can live side by side with the old ones, and I like to think of them out there, mingling and laughing, like new friends at a party. Because you love a good party! And later, because it’s Friday, I’ll dance again, celebrating you.
Thank you for being in my life, and for all the lessons that keep unfolding, giving me hope and happiness, forever sunlight in the storm, and a bright light that will never go out. I can’t wait to see your dahlia bloom, your orange, your bright, happy spirit gracing the yard forever like you graced my life.
Soon, I’ll board my first plane since the fall of 2019. I’ll give and receive long overdue hugs, from people who loved Petey, too. My family. His family. We’ll take a moment for Petey, sharing photos and memories, laughing and talking about him, and raising our non-alcoholic glasses in a toast. And then we’ll continue to love each other and make new memories together, celebrating Petey like he would want; lifting our arms to our ancestors in the sky. For all the pivots in the last thirteen years, Petey Sellers was my constant until he wasn’t. It’s been the biggest adjustment of my life, but I’ve always been a fan of pivots. Petey and I did so many of them together! And since he’s with me, I’m never truly doing anything alone.
I can’t go back to before, because that would ignore what I’ve experienced. But I can move forward together, we all can, holding each other’s hearts in our hands, remembering what we’ve lost, but also celebrating what we love, adding layers of color around the dark, filling our lives with light. White butterflies and hope, hand in hand. In celebration of life, love, and still being on this beautiful planet together – and for Petey Sellers! – let’s pivot turn, friends. Let’s dance.
*waves to the white butterfly
Dance!
Spring-Shing-Aling with DJ Action Slacks!
I couldn’t do the last one because I was isolated for my family travel, but I know there’s one in June! See you on the dance floor?
Listen!
John C. Savage’s New Album: Nova Pangea, Lie Very Still
This gem of a human is also a gem of a jazz player and advocate for the planet. This beautiful exploration is a “stunning testament to the beauty of our planet and the urgency of the climate crisis.” Listening, I was also very touched. Petey loved jazz, especially free jazz, and I know he heard this from the beyond. The quartet includes Savage, Mike Gamble, Shao Way Wu, and Ken Ollis. Download it, here:
Love!
Grief with layers of joy around it? Yes, please. I love this beautiful visualization and articulation of grief. So true — and also, so hopeful. We’re all walking around with little rainbows.
Gratitude!
This morning, I opened a card from Dr. Freeman and the team at VCCS. It was a donation to the Veterinary Care Foundation in honor of Petey Sellers! Right in time for his birthday! I was so touched. Petey loved to help, so this is the perfect way to memorialize him forever. If you’re in the Portland area and need care for your dog for canine cancer, you won’t find a better team, anywhere. They took such great care of Petey throughout our journey and became like family. (See above!) Thank you, Dr. Kim and team!
Happy Birthday Petey Sellers!
Thank you for being here, for reading, sharing, subscribing, and celebrating Petey Sellers with me and this post. It’s a mish-mash of things today, but that’s how holidays are, sometimes. Petey likes to be real! But he also likes to dance. So, go tie one on for Friday Night Dance Party! And if you see a white butterfly, feel the magic! And then tell me about it. Petey says: go eat some cake!
xoxo
Kari
