Home

My feet are cold. They get cold a lot, I guess I have bad circulation or something. It used to be when they were cold I would put them on Dan's feet or legs to warm them up. Usually he would give a little jump and say "get your freezing feet off me" but then when I would try to pull them away he would pull them back and warm them up for me. See he really didn't mind, he just had to pretend he did to put on a show.  He would always bring me socks before I would ask for them or even say I was cold, he would just hand them to me and say "Jennifer put some socks on and you won't be cold" Whenever I did say I was cold his first response was always "are you wearing socks"

One of my vivid memories the night Dan died is hat my feet were freezing. Colder then they had ever been before, numb like I was standing barefoot in the snow. So cold that in the wake of my husbands death I made my sister go into my room and get me a pair of socks. I actually thought about socks. I was that cold. My feet stayed cold for a really long time after that. A month at least, my feet were so cold they felt numb. I don't remember it getting less or slowly getting better I just noticed one day that my feet weren't cold. When I was doing EMDR therapy after every session my feet would be cold. Thinking about that night makes my feet cold. Now my feet still get cold randomly or because it is actually cold, but I have noticed a strong coloration to thinking or talking about Dan dying and my feet being cold. My feet have been cold all weekend.

I went to this church women's retreat thing this weekend. All the churches from my denomination in our state go. There were lots of people I knew and lots of people I didn't. I wasn't going to go because of that I'm still angry at God thing, but then my friend who is in charge of the event texted me and said can you please come I need your help with one of the projects. She's sneeky, and she knows me, I'm pretty sure she didn't actually need my help but she just wanted me there and knew I wouldn't say no if she asked for help. So I went.

The theme for the weekend was HOME. The first thing we had to do was make name tags that told about our home. really? I thought. Really shes gonna make me do this? And now it's decision time. Do you make something flowery and pretty or do you tell the truth. I decided to do both. I used paper that was my favorite color, I used glitter. and then I taped and cut and taped and cut until it looked like it was broken and being put back together. Yup thats a pretty good description of my "home". Then I put a broken black ribbon on it for Dan. It turns out I didn't make it very well and it fell apart all weekend. That seemed fitting. The first thing we did was sit in tables and describe our name tags. "Hi I'm Jenny, my name tag represents being broken and torn because thats what home feels like right now". The three people at the table who knew me shook there heads in understanding. The three that didn't wondered what the heck I was talking about.

The next question was something like  "where is home" now you can be practical and tell what city you live in but we all know shes looking for a more metaphorical answer. So we go around the table and they say things like "my family is my home" "my church makes me feel at home." "wherever my husband and I are together is home" And now it's my turn, and its decision time again, lollipops and rainbows or the truth. Might as well out with it I guess. "Well my home is a little broken at the moment, you see my husband died last year, so that part of my home is gone, then we had to move out of our physical home, so that part of home is gone too" I tear up as I say this and don't mention how neither baby girl or myself are the same as we used to be so we don't really feel like home either. Not the home we used to have.

Next question. something like "where do you feel at home?"  Since we ended with me, we started with me. "where do I feel at home? Nowhere. I used to feel at home with Dan, it didn't matter where he was, He was home." I imagine myself putting my head on his chest, I can feel his warmth, feel his breathing, feel his heart beat. feel his arms around me. Now I'm really crying "Ever since he died I haven't felt at home, I've just felt lost, I'm lost without him, I don't think I will feel home again until I'm with him again in heaven and that is sooooooo long from now" I put my head down on the table and try to control my tears. Someone pats my back and the person next to me takes their turn answering the question. Nope I can't do it, I can't stop crying, I can't be here. I get up and leave looking for somewhere to hide.

I go into the sanctuary, all the lights are off and its totally dark, a great hiding place. I lay down in one of the pews and sob and sob and sob. Dam it Dan why did you die, I need you, I miss you. I just lay there and cry for Dan. I look up at the stained glass window. I'm crying for my dead husband and I'm angry at God. Another place I used to feel at home and don't anymore. Even growing up Catholic as soon as I would walk into a sanctuary I would feel this peace come over me, a feeling of home.  I haven't felt that in a sanctuary since Dan died.

My friend comes looking for me and we talk for awhile. She tells me how I'm so strong, and a great mom, and I'm making it through this so well. I want to laugh because I don't feel like I'm any of those things, but I know she loves me and I know shes sincere. We wait until almost everyone else leaves for the night and then we go get my things. I find my friend who asked me to come and tell her I'll see her in the morning.

Today was better, largely because my "job" didn't involve me sitting in on any discussions. My job was to "pamper" people by painting their nails. And so I sat and painted fingernails. A couple people from my table the night before came and talked to me more about Dan. That was good. Talking about Dan is always good, even if I have to run away and cry afterwards. He is my home.

I wrote a book about my grief, you can read it here: Carry on Castle