I should be jumping for joy. I should be so excited that I can hardly sleep. Here I am, in this fantastic house that dozens of people have helped to build for me. It’s much fancier than anything I could have ever afforded. I would imagine that there will be those who struggle with jealousy and wonder why God doesn’t bless them the same way.
I see the cost.
Not “cost”, as in “price”, but the cost of people’s time, their sacrifice’s financially, their bruised thumbs and bloody knuckles, and their grief. Many people who have helped me have also lost, whether it be a loved one, a house, a pet, a friend, the list goes on. The loss of Dan, my husband, friend, companion, co-worker, and provider, is what prompted this whole project.
I’ve never moved without Dan that I can remember. I lived in the same house from the time I was 6 till I married Dan. Then we moved about once every year. =) It’s funny, this house isn’t full of memories of Dan, but it does seem full of the loss of Dan. Just sitting here in this bed, alone, I look across the room and it just feels so empty. He’s not sitting there working on his computer. There isn’t even a plate of food cooling off, waiting for him to get back from the bathroom. The closet is empty of his clothes. The bathroom is missing his razor and toothbrush. His shoes aren’t sitting beside the bed waiting for me to trip over them in the wee hours of the morning. The emptiness is so tangible tonight.
The kids asked me where we were going this morning and I said, “We are going home.” And then I cried. Home is where the heart is. My heart is broke. I wanted to run away. The desire to turn the van around and drive to West Virginia was nearly overwhelming. But that’s not home any more either. Dan’s not there any more than he is here. No offence to everyone who worked so hard to build this house for me, but I would give up this mansion in a blink of an eye if I could have my Danny back.