I haven't written
a “Thought for the Day” in quite some
time, and I offer my sincere apologies. I have been submerged in life, and I am
also writing a new book. Between the two, I have been more than swamped. I
think of many things to write about, and I promise myself that I will get them
jotted down, but it rarely happens. I sat down to pen this, and at first, I had
no direction. So, I delved deep into my brain, and tried to remember the topics
that had hit me at 3 am, in the shower, and mid-dish washing.
I began thinking of the events of this week, and one person
kept coming to mind. As my tears welled, I found myself here, writing. Writing
is my release, and my way of dealing with so many things.
I received word this week that a precious, dear friend had
passed away.
I had no words. I felt like just falling down and crying my
eyes out.
My thoughts have been a whirlwind. I remember his smile, his
laugh, his care, and what resonated though my tears, was a specific occasion
where, once again, he saved me.
It was my junior year, and the day of the prom had finally
arrived.
I had a date, which thrilled me to the core. It was a friend
who attended another school, and he also had a really cool car, so life was
looking up.
I had chosen my attire a month prior, and I daresay it
rivaled something out of a John Hughes movie.
My Mom, being a seamstress, helped me come up with my own,
new fashion for this event, and of course I put my own touch of Teresa on it.
She made a gorgeous, black, strapless gown. It was floor length with slits up
the side to parade my legs, and she also made a see-through half jacket that
was black with gold sunbursts that really jumped out at you.
I had practiced dancing all month in my black heels, and
felt like I could twirl and swirl all night without looking dumb or hurting
myself in something higher than my neon blue Reebok high tops.
I hurried that Saturday morning to the salon, for hair and
makeup, and as I look back now, I realize how very eighties I looked: My hair
was locked and loaded with enough hairspray to to last a good week,
accessorized by a hair thing-y that was black with a gold sunburst on the side,
matching my outfit. With my up-do in place, I smiled at myself and dreamed of
the magical night that awaited in just a few short hours.
Upon returning home, I was startled by the phone, and I ran
to the den to grab it. I almost fell over the table, realizing I was in my heels, and sweats. My heart fell into
my stomach as I talked on the phone. My teenage dreams were over. I couldn't
cry because with all that mascara, I would have looked like a raccoon in red
lipstick. I screamed for Mama, and she came quickly. My date had canceled, and
I felt so hurt and mad that I tried to ignore Mom's advice. She urged me to go
to the prom alone. How could I do that? I had gone through all of this make-up
and fuss, and I suddenly felt so dumb.
She wouldn't let up, and I finally agreed to go alone.
I walked into the prom, got in line, and felt my tears
coming again. I looked at the line at the door, and saw all the couples-- and
then, there was me. I didn't feel pretty. I didn't feel fun or upbeat. I was
just so sad. I had some others things going on in my life at the time, and this
was just the icing on my teenage flopped cake.
As I neared the table where we presented our tickets, I said
meekly, “One person,” and before I could feel pathetic, I heard him. “No, no.
Your date is here.”
There was David, looking so handsome in his tux, and wearing
that beautiful smile that made him appear even more dashing. I didn't know what
to say. He offered me his arm, and led me to the table where he and his
girlfriend were sitting.
I was so taken aback. He told his girlfriend I would be
joining them tonight, and all I could do was smile. We laughed, and took in the
decor of the ballroom that was decorated for our event.
I heard a slow song start to play, and after asking his lady
if it was alright, he asked me to dance. Debbie Gibson had never sounded
sweeter. We glided along the floor, the chandeliers above us twinkling,
giggling and talking. I whispered to him, and nodded in the direction of my
crush, who was standing across the room.
He nodded back, and whisked me towards my crush, and then
whisked me just as quickly away. David teased at me as he would dance nearer
and nearer to the crush, and then pull me away.
The night was perfect, and I wasn't even flunking out in my
heels! Several dances and so many more laughs later, our junior prom began to
come to an end.
“What would a prom be without a kiss, my Binkie?” he said
sweetly, and so gently and tenderly, he kissed me on the cheek.
My David, my sweet, precious friend, had saved me, and given
me a night I would never forget. We had spoken of it in times past, and of
course he didn't see what a knight in a shining tux he was to me.
What could have been a lonely and highly depressing memory
was transformed by someone who loved me truly, like all friends should.
That was David. He cared so much for the hearts and souls of
others. He was genuine, he was real, and he never closed a conversation without
telling me loved me. He helped me through some tough times, and never once did
he look down on me, berate me, or walk away. He stood with me in my storms.
I can't explain how much I ache to know he isn't here. He
was such a gorgeous soul, who rescued me so many times by just being there to
hold my hand through the the hard parts of life.
In our lives, we are given the privilege to know incredible
people. Some folks pass them up, some overlook them, and some pick them up and
see what a treasure they have. I am so glad to have known such a man. I pray
that his children will know and remember what a good soul he was.
I spoke to him recently, and of course, he was filled with
positive words and love for me. That is something that will stay with me
forever.
Love each other, go the extra mile, and if you see a girl
standing alone, all dressed up, ask her to dance. It could change her entire
life, like David changed mine.
Rest in peace, David. Not only were you Fred Astaire on the
dance floor, but your memory will dance upon my soul forevermore. I love you,
David Parsons. I'll give you no goodbyes, because I will see you someday. Every
time I hear Debbie Gibson, I'll sway to myself, and remember how wonderful it
was to have been so lucky to call you one of my best friends. I hope you dance,
sweet one. Dance, and know no pain.
Here are my thoughts.
Teresa
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