That doesn’t mean that I don’t have mornings, like this one, where I wake up aching to turn the clock back four weeks and relish in a place that I know and that I feel known.

That is the hardest part about moving…the constant uncertainty. That everything, and I mean everything, is new.

Don’t get me wrong, I love exploring. I love meeting new people. And I love an adventure.

But there are days when I just want to know the fastest way to get from point A to point B. There are days when I just want to be able to stroll into church on Sunday morning and see more friends than strangers. There are days when I just want to savor old routines instead of going through the hassle of establishing new ones. And mostly there are days, when I just want to know and be known.

Have you moved? What did you think was the hardest part?

That’s why I was surprised to find myself crying. All the way home.

It wasn’t anything anyone did or said. And it wasn’t anything anyone didn’t do or didn’t say. Really, it wasn’t.

It was me. Or the lack of me. That had me in tears.

My easy affection and dependable laughter stolen and replaced with all I could muster…forced smiles and stiffled answers.

And I realized, I miss me.

For the last month or so, I have felt like a shell of myself, going through the motions, doing my best to get through the day, putting one front in front of the other.

So maybe its natural that on nights, like tonight, I might miss me.

I can’t help but wonder if others miss me too?

I can’t help but wonder if I will find myself again soon?

I can’t help but wonder if the me that is found will at all resemble the me that has gone missing?

And I can’t help but wonder have you ever missed you before?

Ouch!

Admittedly, I am no expert on grief.

Sure, I know grief. I’ve lost my fair share of dogs, grandparents, and friends. I’ve had my heart broken by a boy. But, I don’t know GRIEF. I’ve never lost parents, children, siblings, or best friends. I’ve never had my heart broken by a husband.

Grief is always hard. Always hard. Always HARD.

But from what I’ve witnessed, grief is the most consuming, the most gut-wrenching, when the loss can not be reconciled. A child dying of cancer. A dog disappearing from a backyard. A man taking his own life. A fatal car accident.  A man walking out a relationship with no explanation. Something, someone, being plucked right out of (the illusion of) our grasp.

I guess it is because when we can’t reconcile a loss, we get STUCK. We get stuck desperately trying to understand “why?”. Instead of mourning, reflecting, and discovering what’s next, we get stuck replaying the loss over-and-over, and our heart breaks again-and-again.

Once I FINALLY put away the “why?”s, I begin to properly grieve my loss, to heal, and to move forward. Of course it’s still a process, but at least I’m not stuck…

The one thing I still haven’t figured out (and it is a doozy) is HOW to skip the stage where I try to reconcile my loss, the where I get stuck asking “why?” Is there a way to fast forward through this painful (and usually unfruitful) stage of grief?

Thoughts?