Mom always used to say, “Going away is fun, but coming home again is even better.”

Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz said, “There’s no place like home.”

And Helen Rowland put it this way: “Home is any four walls that enclose the right person.”

Louisa, Birgitta and I drove the last leg of our road trip toward home today. Once we’d made the last gas stop, the Highlander was like a horse racing for its barn. “Pedal to the metal, Midge,” Louisa said as I took the wheel. “Let’s get there!”

On this trip we journeyed 3000+ miles and finally came within 100 from home when my heart began to ache again like a case of the nerves plus stomach butterflies and nausea rolled into one. Arriving home is gratifying, but it also means resuming my long, slow grieving process. Taking a trip with all its planning, packing, road adventures and time with those we love let’s a new widow set aside her sorrow for a time. It is waiting for her, though, when she gets home.

One of the tasks I was chipping away at before we left on this trip was cataloging my past blog posts by date, title and topic. A couple of publishers have expressed interest, and my natural bent toward disorganization has made it difficult to answer their questions. The blog list will help them and also me, but in order to complete it, I’ve had to re-read each post. Although I came to the task with optimism, once I dipped back into the blogs that described Nate’s cancer, I lost myself in sobbing and reading that went on for nearly two hours. I managed to get through 29 days-worth, recording the data I needed, but it was as if my heart was watching Nate’s torturous story unfold again, this time in fast-forward, leaving me unable to catch my breath or control my emotions.

Now I’m back at that same desk, on that same computer, knowing I need to resume that same task. I don’t want to, but that’s grieving. On, off, up, down, getting swamped, coming up for air. I don’t want to do it, but if I don’t, it’ll never finish.

As Mom said, coming home after a trip is sweet, but for someone with a fresh loss, its bittersweet at best. Arriving home means having had to say goodbye all along the way and also having to adjust to being alone again. I was made well aware of that when I realized I was talking to Jack about the heat being off and the refrigerator being bare. It should have been Nate, but a dog was the best I could do. My four walls no longer “enclose the right person.” Sometimes I get worn out from the work of it all, because grieving is both draining and discouraging.

God knows, however, exactly what all grievers need in terms of relief from the effort. He’ll never let the emotional swamping go on too long without providing new air. After I dumped out my Florida suitcase tonight, I left it open to begin tossing things in for the next trip, this one to England after Hans and Katy’s twins arrive. So although these next days may be dotted with tears and sobs as I complete the blog list, new air is coming in the form of another journey.

And when I return home after that one, maybe it won’t feel so bittersweet but will just be good old “Home Sweet Home.”

“Rescue me from the mire, do not let me sink. Deliver me from… the deep waters. Do not let the floodwaters engulf me or the depths swallow me up.” (Psalm 69:14-15)