Where Memories Dance

Yesterday, I went back to the “Schwaben Cup” dance competition, which takes place every year.

It's the same stage, the same lights, the same energy—and yet everything is different.

Because it was the last competition Leon took part in.

I knew it would be difficult again. And yet I went anyway.

Sometimes you have to face these moments – even if they hurt.

Because they are part of what remains.

Dancing was his passion. His laughter, his joy, his enthusiasm – all of that lives on there somehow.

And I am sure that, in some way, he was there again this time.

It feels good to go back there once a year. Not because you want to change anything or even make up for lost time, but because it's an opportunity to meet young people who knew and loved him.

Stories, experiences, and special memories of him are shared.

And every time, I feel that his traces are still there.

A place where the pain dances quietly and the connection to him lives on.

A picture of him still hangs in the dance school today—a quiet, loving reminder so that new dancers also know who he was.

What a touching gesture.

Perhaps that is what makes this place so special:

It's not just dancing here—it's feeling.

Memories live on here.

Perhaps it's because dancers can express their feelings differently – with every movement, every glance, every gesture.

Or because our connection to Leon touches us all in a special way.

But every time I'm there, I feel like he's still dancing with us a little bit.