Grief holds a lot of faces. And like anyone, I've had my fair share of looks and expressions.

One of the hardest things to do in life is to admit that we're not okay. To admit that, in fact, no, we're not fine. That life is hard and days can be tough and while the weeks keep rolling we're a semi-truck out of control on a mountainside highway.

Sometimes we trip ourselves into the downhill disaster, other times horrible news hits us like concrete to the face.

Why this? Why me? Why do bad things happen to good people?