Yesterday was a tender, sorrowful day.
I read a memorial post written by a dear friend who had just lost her father. Her words were soaked in reverence, sorrow, and love. As I read, I was pulled into the current of her grief. I knew her father—a man of immense dignity and quiet strength, who carried himself with grace and unwavering values. He was the kind of man whose presence made the world feel a little more grounded. A little more good.

Her tribute unfolded with memories, one after another, each more intimate and radiant than the last. As I read, I felt not just her sorrow but the sorrow of her entire family. And my own. The tears came suddenly—uninvited but welcome. I cried in English and Russian, as if the grief needed both languages to fully express itself. My heart felt swollen with emotion, heavy and open at once.

At the end of her post, there was a link. A song.
It was one her father had chosen himself, with a clear and beautiful instruction:
Play this at my funeral. And dance. Please dance for me.
He didn’t want stillness or solemnity. He wanted movement. He wanted life.

So I clicked the link. The music began—it was Afik Simon, a tune I knew well.
And without even thinking, I stood up.
My body moved before my mind caught up.
I danced. Alone, in my living room, sunlight slanting through the curtains. Crying, laughing, aching. Grief poured out in motion—out through my shoulders, my spine, my hips. It didn’t leave me, but it changed shape. It stopped being a weight and became a current. It moved through me. It asked nothing of me but presence.

That was when I understood: this is how we say goodbye.
With tears, yes. But also with rhythm. With breath. With gratitude.
We dance—not because it erases the loss, but because it honors the life.
We dance because it’s what the body knows how to do when words fall short.
We dance when someone we love asks us to.

So today, I share this with you:
If you’re grieving—move.
If you’re celebrating—move.
Let your body feel it all. Let it speak where your voice cannot.
Let it mourn. Let it remember. Let it rejoice.

Join the practice.
Dance your goodbyes. Dance your prayers. Dance your love.
For yourself. For those you miss. For those who asked you to.