The Dance

Alan’s favorite country singer is Garth Brooks, the funny part is mine is George Strait. He likes Coke, I like Pepsi. It was always a cute inside joke for us when it came to personal likes and dislikes that we picked on each other but in a loving way, you all know this, especially when you have been with your partner longer than a day. As long as I had known Alan, he always loved Garth Brooks music and especially the song, The Dance. The dance, a very famous song by Garth, was absolutely going to be a chosen song to play during the slide show of my Alan, it was without a doubt, one of the first things I thought of as I sat in my office on the night/morning of Alan’s death. You see, that night, 1/31/2020, I stayed wired and awake or kind of in a trance, for the remainder of that night and into the morning following. Oh, does your mind do some crazy shit with you when you are in shock. I never felt like that, EVER, it was like I was a robot, or in a state of mind where your brain goes into survival mode to get you through this because you aren’t quite processing things right. I didn’t feel hungry or sleepy and I didn’t feel awake or asleep, I was just existing in those first few hours. I bring that up, because I don’t remember some things real clearly starting with the moment I looked out my front door glass window and saw the red and blue lights in my front yard. I think at THAT moment, I knew my life, as I knew it, was never going to be the same. I knew that my worst fears are about to come true when I open the door. I remember hearing Liliana down the hall singing in the shower as I took the next step towards the door to open it. It was a moment full of details that I won’t forget, but then things started to really get fuzzy afterwards. Again, your body in survival mode does amazing things to get you through it, but it also gives you temporary amnesia to the traumatic events that take place soon after. So, when I finally got home that next morning with Lili, I put her to bed in our bedroom, then I paced my living room floor, thinking and crying, then I cleaned my house, then I watched the clock only so I could patiently wait for the sun to come up and I could go for a run that next morning. I ran down my street, in the cold, crying the whole time. I didn’t know why I needed to run, and after about 2 miles or so, my lungs were hurting from the cold and my crying, I walked to my house, then took a shower. I remember closing my bathroom door and just collapsing on the floor. I sobbed and I begged God to take this away…make this be a dream, “Please God, not Alan.” I picked myself up, as I walked into the shower, I noticed Alan’s towel hanging above mine and I wept. I wept the whole time I showered, seeing all his toiletries on his side of the shower. “What am I supposed to do now, God.” I got out, got dressed and laid on the bed starring at our daughter. I watched her sleep, most nights so peaceful, but right now, as I looked at her, I could see her restless. She opened her eyes to look at me, already with tears in them. I reached out my hand to her and she gave me hers, we held hands and cried. I remember telling her how hard today was going to be. I told her I loved her so much and that there was going to be a lot of people here starting today. I told her I needed to get dressed and ready because I knew people were going to need to talk to me and I had to be ready. I asked her if she was hungry. I then got dressed. After feeding her I sat in my office, with my phone next to me, expecting that it would start ringing soon from the calls and texts. I then turned on my computer and that’s when the memory of “The Dance” came into my thoughts. It was strange and random, but I took out my notebook and I wrote that down…”The Dance.” I then put next to it, “Reminder—for Alan’s funeral.” So, that started the beginning of the worst days of my life, preparing for his funeral. Let’s rewind a bit, let’s say about 15-16 years before when I met Alan and we started to finally go out on dates. When we met, we were living in Northern Virginia, just about 20 minutes or so from D.C. Most weekends we would spend in D.C., club hopping, dinner, night life. It was fun and it was always an adventure for us. I had a group of friends I would hang out with, and Alan, well Alan was always kind of a loner. Alan was never the type to spend times with “the boys” or go drinking or clubbing, nothing like that. He met me wherever I happened to be and always stayed as long as I did, making sure I got home safe and almost always being the sober one..lol. Alan, to the date of his death, was NEVER a drinker. I can count, literally on one hand, the amount of times I ever saw Alan McCollum drunk throughout our time together. He never enjoyed drinking and actually hated the taste of beer. When I got into wine, then Alan and I would enjoy going to wineries together and wine with dinner, and of course wine at home, alone. But, my Alan, just appreciated being “in the moment” without anything to impair his judgement or that moment, so he preferred to stay sober. Alan, when he did get drunk those very rare moments in our relationship was a VERY GOOFY drunk and total social butterfly. It was hilarious, but so cute, to see him become the life of the party in those rare moments of his “liquid courage.” Alan cared a lot about his health and well-being so drinking, to him, was like polluting his body, so that was the main reason why he didn’t. It really brings a lot to perspective for me to have learned in the following days as the details starting to be revealed to me of his death. When I learned it was a drunk driver, man, did that hurt. It was a knife in my heart to know how Alan felt about alcohol and then this to be the cause of his death. “Why God, why??” So, back to our early days. I didn’t know until much later after some more dates and more getting to know Alan that he really HATED dancing. It was quite comical how before knowing this, I would drag him on the dance floor with me only to find out later he only did it to please me. He said he was always embarrassed dancing and never liked people watching him. I wouldn’t have ever guessed, seriously, because he would always have his cute smile as he “danced” with me. I put dance in quotes because he never really was good at it…lol, but I just liked having him out there with me, holding me, and watching me as he did. He did his best to keep up, even when I “led” during Salsa dancing or anything else where the man typically leads. He didn’t care, he did his best, all the time, to make me happy, embarrassed and all. As the years passed and our club days ended, we stopped dancing in public. We would dance, occasionally, in our kitchen or bedroom, to a slow song, or just dance to no music at all, but to hold each other anyway. I have this memory, it was about 5 years ago, after we moved back home, that I asked Alan for a big favor. It was more of a request of him. He always would say, “Okay babe, what is it?” So enthusiastically, really sarcastically, because any request of mine usually came with stipulations, I asked him if “we” could take professional dancing lessons to help “him.” The dances most people are into in South Texas are the two step and Tejano or cumbia-type of dancing. I told him I found a lady, a much older lady, to give us 5 private lessons. He rolled his eyes and initially didn’t really reply, just kind of let the conversation fade, hoping I would forget and NEVER bring it up again. But, I did, and I texted him a calendar reminder of the our lessons. As I saw him accept the dates, I smiled, because I knew, even when Alan hated some of the things I asked of him, he usually did them anyway. Alan loved making us happy, all of us. He rarely complained, and if he did, it was to me and not our kids or anyone else for that matter. Privately I knew his frustrations from work and from difficult people that pissed him off, but it was kept between us, as it should be for couples. We were each other’s “person” that we felt safe to talk to and to vent to and to reveal secrets to, that were painful. Men and women do always keep “some” things to themselves, everyone has to have a secret or two that is never shared, but, for Alan and I, we were like one person, I knew him and he knew me. The “grey” area wasn’t even a secret, we shared everything, so I know, for the rest of my life, I won’t ever find another “person” that I will ever feel what I felt with Alan. I know what people say, “Oh, you’re going to find someone else.” Yes, I do believe I will, at least I have hope I will, I really don’t want to be lonely forever, but if I don’t then I know a man was not meant for me and I’ll be okay with that. But, just finding someone, anyone can do that, but finding a person to reveal your soul to, that’s rare and for me, Alan was that person. So, we took those dance lessons, all five of them. Brenda, the dance instructor, was pretty hard on “Mr. Two Left Feet”…lol. My poor Alan, took the ridicule and torture from those dance lessons. After lesson five, he said, “Alright, we’re done, let’s go home.” He did it, for me, but we never really got to dance any more after that. I could tell how uncomfortable he was, even through the smiles, and I wouldn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable just for my selfish reasons. I realized that his weakness, there were not many, was dancing. Why would I force him to do something that made him uncomfortable when I could focus on things that we BOTH enjoyed and made him relaxed and happy. So, occasionally, if we did get invited to a dance, he would get me to go out on the dance floor, usually alone or with a crowd, and sit and watch me. His eyes never leaving me, just fascinated at watching his wife enjoy dancing. It wasn’t weird, after being married for so long, to do that. We knew our strengths and weaknesses in our marriage and we dealt with them. Dancing, is something I will always enjoy, and my memories of him, from years ago, trying to impress me by dancing, made me fall in love with him. It’s rare to find a man that is willing to make himself vulnerable to impress the woman he loves. Most of the time we are wrapped up in ourselves with being selfish or thinking too much about what other people would say about us to ever allow ourselves to be vulnerable in public. Alan didn’t care because he was determined to make me his girl, people watching or not, his moment to impress me meant he was going to have to do something that made him vulnerable and uncomfortable, but it worked. That’s love, really it’s simple, but it was the way he loved me, in the beginning, through dance. The dance.