Loss, Love, and the Power of Dance to Heal
This week’s blog is a personal reflection on finding comfort in unexpected places. I hope it resonates with anyone who has experienced loss or is seeking solace in their own way.
This week's blog isn't about tips, insider information, audition attire, or anything directly related to dance teams. Instead, it's something personal to me, and if it connects with even one person, then I'll feel like I've shared something worthwhile.
On September 5th, my partner Danny and I returned from a quick grocery run to find my dog Gunnar had passed away in a tragic accident. The pain was, and still is, immense. Yet, even in this darkness, I find myself filled with gratitude for the time we had with him and the incredible community that loved him.
For those who knew me, Gunnar was an inseparable part of my life. We were a package deal. He was my constant companion, always by my side as we traveled and explored together. From hitting the mountain trails to bombing down snowy slopes, cruising on long road trips, or swimming in any lake or river he could find - that goofball was always up for the adventure. His presence was a given in all aspects of my life, including at the dance studio.
Gunnar was more than just my pet; he was a cherished member of my dance family. His excited barks greeting everyone at the door, his playful presence during warm-ups, clever maneuvers for snacks and even his afternoon naps in the teacher's lounge were all part of our daily routine. He brought joy, comfort, and often comic relief during stressful times. The love he received from my dancers was truly special.
In this time of loss, I've found solace in an unexpected place - the dance studio. While returning to work has been challenging, stepping back into the studio feels like coming home. Being surrounded by the people who bring me as much joy as Gunnar once did, has been a source of comfort and healing.
Dance, like Gunnar, has always been my constant. It's been there to provide light in dark times, understanding in confusion, and unconditional love in pain. I'm profoundly grateful for this art form and the community it has given me. Dance, much like the love we have for our pets, is something we pour our hearts into, knowing that at some point, transitions and goodbyes are inevitable.
Whether you're still actively dancing, coaching, or have moved on to other pursuits, I hope you can reflect on the dance community with gratitude. We're fortunate to be part of a craft and a family that not only challenges us to grow but also helps us heal in times of need.