Rasputin.

Have you seen that video of the couple dancing to Rasputin at the wedding?  I stumbled across it last year and sent it to Sean (after watching it about 100 times during lunch) with the hashtag #goals.  He sent back a rolling eye emoji.

As I pulled into the driveway that day, he called and asked if I was almost home.  I told him that I was parking the car and please don't ask me to go to ShopRite because I'm exhausted.  He said he was just wondering where I was.

I walked into the house and he was standing in the living room.  Just standing.  And then he turned the song on and started dancing.  Like a damn fool in his bathrobe.  And he had memorized the dance the wedding guy was doing.  Apparently he had a productive afternoon and I was laughing so hard I almost peed in my pants.  And as he's cha cha-ing through our kitchen, Lexi was doing her best to keep up.

That song became one of my favorites and made it's way to my airplane playlist - basically a collection of songs that I would listen to when we flew.  And whenever it came on, he would look at me with his eyes wide and start dancing.

Tonight I had music on while I was showering.  And Rasputin came on.  And, without realizing it I was singing along like it was my job.  Until I wasn't.  And then I was sitting in the tub crying.  

It wasn't because I missed Sean and his not so smooth dance moves.  It was because I was singing and laughing and I felt guilty about it.  I felt guilty that for a brief few seconds, I was acting like nothing had happened.  It was probably the first time in two months that I felt slightly normal and that gutted me.

It took me a while to get up.  Partly because I needed the cry, but also because I'm 48 and not exactly in the best shape of my life.

I read somewhere that those moments will creep in - that you'll laugh at something or do something like you did "before" and feel guilty.  And tonight I had my first moment.

But I thought about it.  Sean hated when I was upset.  He hated seeing me cry.  And some of our most fun moments involved us singing and dancing like idiots.  So I tied my towel a little tighter and boogied into our bedroom.

And sang like a champ.

There's no telling how those moments are going to turn out, so tonight I celebrated that mad Russian monk and my husband's Travolta-esque moves.