Dance On, Dear Friend
June 14, 2021
by Vicki Weaver
I read of Greg's final choreography yesterday in the Spokane Sunday paper.....I can't begin to describe my shock and sense of disbelief and loss; if you are reading this, I know you understand.
Greg and I met in college at Eastern Washington University. We both were grads of Spokane high schools and my aunt had actually been his piano teacher. Greg was a TA in a ballet class I took. I was tiny - he thought I would make a great partner for lifts! The first time we tried, I leapt, turned, kicked out - and got him right in the gems..... For the next class, he was armed with a garbage can lid that he held in front of "those parts". Such a trickster, such a joy, such wonderful memories.
We became great friends after that and I crushed big time; he was interested in friendship only, and I was absolutely grateful for his friendship. I met another man and eventually married, and Greg and I stayed close friends. When my marriage ended very badly three years later, he was there. He took me dancing, took me for motorcycle rides, walked with me, talked with me. He was there whenever I needed him - he came in the middle of the night when I had a nightmare (after HE took me to see Poltergeist!) and my parakeet escaped on the same night. He came when I called about a dead, bloated animal in my garden - that turned out to be a bleached and bloated huge zucchini from the last year's garden.
I moved to Australia in 1988, and Greg took possession of my car and sold it for me. He then moved to Whidbey Island. On my first couple of visits home, I made the trip to see him in Langley.
But we lost touch, until I moved back to Spokane in 2011. Over the last ten years, we had many wonderful catch up times, when he was in Spokane caring for his mom, and helping with her house. Breakfasts out, long walks and talks. Singing together; harmonizing; Greg being picky - doing it over and over..... laughing, and sparring at times.
I have a voicemail from March 2020, just at the beginning of all of our lockdowns. We then talked a few times in the next couple of months - I could hear his struggle with isolation; I could sense he was going through "something", and I regret that I didn't understand the depths of his anguish. Maybe if I would have called him in the last few months....I guess I was struggling, too, but I should have known. I just should have understood.
Ahhhhh, my buddy, my dancing partner, my duet partner, my clown and friend. During all the early years when I loved you as more than a friend, and you didn't share that same kind of love, you NEVER were uncomfortable; you NEVER turned away. How does the world dance without Greg? How do we sing?
I guess we do it for you, my friend. We continue, until we meet again.
Always with love, I will think of you, cry for you, smile and laugh because of the memories you gave me.
Fly free, Little Wing. There is no gravity to confine you now..........
Greg and I met in college at Eastern Washington University. We both were grads of Spokane high schools and my aunt had actually been his piano teacher. Greg was a TA in a ballet class I took. I was tiny - he thought I would make a great partner for lifts! The first time we tried, I leapt, turned, kicked out - and got him right in the gems..... For the next class, he was armed with a garbage can lid that he held in front of "those parts". Such a trickster, such a joy, such wonderful memories.
We became great friends after that and I crushed big time; he was interested in friendship only, and I was absolutely grateful for his friendship. I met another man and eventually married, and Greg and I stayed close friends. When my marriage ended very badly three years later, he was there. He took me dancing, took me for motorcycle rides, walked with me, talked with me. He was there whenever I needed him - he came in the middle of the night when I had a nightmare (after HE took me to see Poltergeist!) and my parakeet escaped on the same night. He came when I called about a dead, bloated animal in my garden - that turned out to be a bleached and bloated huge zucchini from the last year's garden.
I moved to Australia in 1988, and Greg took possession of my car and sold it for me. He then moved to Whidbey Island. On my first couple of visits home, I made the trip to see him in Langley.
But we lost touch, until I moved back to Spokane in 2011. Over the last ten years, we had many wonderful catch up times, when he was in Spokane caring for his mom, and helping with her house. Breakfasts out, long walks and talks. Singing together; harmonizing; Greg being picky - doing it over and over..... laughing, and sparring at times.
I have a voicemail from March 2020, just at the beginning of all of our lockdowns. We then talked a few times in the next couple of months - I could hear his struggle with isolation; I could sense he was going through "something", and I regret that I didn't understand the depths of his anguish. Maybe if I would have called him in the last few months....I guess I was struggling, too, but I should have known. I just should have understood.
Ahhhhh, my buddy, my dancing partner, my duet partner, my clown and friend. During all the early years when I loved you as more than a friend, and you didn't share that same kind of love, you NEVER were uncomfortable; you NEVER turned away. How does the world dance without Greg? How do we sing?
I guess we do it for you, my friend. We continue, until we meet again.
Always with love, I will think of you, cry for you, smile and laugh because of the memories you gave me.
Fly free, Little Wing. There is no gravity to confine you now..........