A Grief Observed

Originally published under a pseudonym, this short book is a thoroughly reasoned but heart-felt analyzation of grief from the private writing journal of intellectual author and academia giant, C.S. Lewis. The object of his grief is the love of his life, his rare intellectual equal and friend whom he met later in life and fell deeply in love with, making her his wife. Born Atheist, C.S. Lewis became a committed Christian, but spent part of his journalized pages in honest reflection of his anger at God and acknowledgement of fragile faith while in the throes of traumatic, life-altering grief. He boldly wonders and writes the thoughts and words most familiarly held at some point in the minds of others bereaved over their most beloved and cherished. From page 23: "Only a real risk tests the reality of a belief. Apparently the faith - I thought it faith - which enables me to pray for the other dead has seemed strong only because I have never really cared, not desperately, whether they existed or not. Yet I thought I did." After other thoughts about risks and beliefs, this is said, "And you will never discover how serious it was until the stakes are raised horribly high, until you find that you are playing not for counters or for sixpences but for every penny you have in the world. Nothing will shake a man - or at any rate a man like me - out of his merely verbal thinking and his merely notional beliefs. He has to be knocked silly before he comes to his senses. Only torture will bring out the truth. Only under torture does he discover himself." On page 25, C.S. sees the human side of grieving when others try to console him with spiritual avenues of comfort: "Talk to me about the truth of religion and I'll listen gladly. Talk to me about the duty of religion and I'll listen submissively. But don't come talking to me about the consolations of religion or I shall suspect that you don't understand." The social leprosy of bereavement is also mentioned on a couple of pages, including this: "Perhaps the bereaved ought to be isolated in special settlements like lepers." At the end, C.S. Lewis seems to reconcile himself to a conclusion about grieving: "For, as I have discovered, passionate grief does not link us with the dead but cuts us off from them," as he tries to go about cherishing his beloved's every memory with gladness, a smile and a laugh. Not for long, however, is this a workable plan as he writes the next day's journal entry more in line with the natural phases of grief: "An admirable programme. Unfortunately it can't be carried out. tonight al the hells of young grief have opened again; the mad words, the bitter resentment, the fluttering in the stomach, the nightmare unreality, the wallowed-in tears. For in grief nothing `stays put.' One keeps on emerging from a phase, but it always recurs. Round and round. Everything repeats. Am I going in circles, or dare I hope I am on a spiral?" As do we all of bereavement ask ourselves when finding that as much as we try clawing our way up the spiral, we suddenly lose our grasp, totally at the mercy of our humanness and that quality that never dies - love.

Good book

Read through the very slender A Grief Observed by C. S. Lewis last night. The book records a brief history of time after the death of C. S. Lewis' wife from cancer. It distinguishes between records and maps of griefs (how can one map grief?), and shines a light on faith and God during pain and suffering. It's a very honest, bare-boned look at ourselves as people and as Christians. The book begins with the death, and Lewis' fear that he is dreaming up an image of his wife, and that the representation is far from the reality. Only, the reality is no longer in existence. Lewis records his numerous discomforts and fears: running into people who don't know what to say, or say what they cannot know (She is with God; She feels no pain), or say the wrong thing (There is no God); addressing his sons only to find that they are ashamed when Lewis mentions their dead mother; fearing where his wife is and what state she is in; dreading the midnight hours. There is one beautiful analogy that he makes between the loss of H. and salt. Grief or anxiety is not skirted because he avoids the cafes or parks they visited together. Her absence is like the absence of salt. If there were no more salt on earth, no more salt at all in any food, one would realize it, one would taste it not only in particular foods, but in every food at every meal. Next, Lewis contemplates the divine. Is God a Cosmic Sadist, or is He wholly good? There are many, many good analogies in here that helped me understand Lewis' process and where he stood in the beginning and at the end. Does God give only to take away out of sadistic pleasure? Lewis claims that God sees that one part of life (Lewis' marriage) comes to fruit and perfection, and moves Christians along to other parts of life in order that through suffering (grief and death), new sanctification is realized. He is not a sadist cutting into the flesh of believers, but rather a skilled surgeon who must continue with all of the incisions in order that the surgery be completed. Otherwise, to finish midway and let off because of the patient's complaints would mean something worse. Nothing is arbitrary, nothing is in vain. And if we see God as dark, wicked, mean, cruel, it is only because we do not see at all, according to Lewis. His great fear is, after all, not that there is no God, but that God is cruel and not what Lewis had understood him to be through Scripture and life. It's interesting because he gives a description of God's response to human grief: silence. He comes to realize that his own panic and terror caused him to run and slam the door in his own face. It's difficult to save a terrified drowning man, he will pull you down. The prayers are screams and it's impossible to hear anything but ourselves. He writes that he realized later that God chooses the right time to give comfort or answers. He also says that "God is the great Iconoclast," who constantly smashes our erroneous images of Himself. We are image makers, we are constantly categorizing and creating representations of things and beings we cannot see (alive, dead, and divine). We want the images, we are afraid to forget. But what we need is the real thing. We want our loved ones back, pictures don't suffice. And, of greater importance, we don't want something that is like Christ, or something like his life, work, death, and resurrection; we need the real thing. (Is it really true that Lewis prayed for the dead? Did he continue after his wife passed?) The last section is devoted mostly to H., his wife, who is really referred to as H. Lewis is highly cognizant of the triptych he creates. He begins with himself, then looks to God, the Creator, and then appreciates his wife, the created, the gift. He closes the record by stating that it will be a part of his life forever, but that H. did say, not to him, but to the chaplain, I am at peace with God.

Es un libro interesante sobre la palabra Dios cuando perdemos alguien en nuestra vida. Lo dimos de regalo a una amiga.

Je souhaite lire tous ses œuvres. T t t t t t t t t t t t t t

I was first signposted to this book nearly 18 years ago by a bereavement counsellor Maxine - who helped more than she knew or I ever told her! At the time I really couldn't see my way out of almost stifling grief - but she gave me a copy of this book and suggested I read it - and pop a yellow sticky in the pages that most resonated with me. A month or so on she suggested I re-read it and do the yellow sticky thing again - and already I could see I was moving on - if only through the stages of grief at that time. I hadn't believed it possible. Several readings later - loads more yellow stickies - and months passed - and I finally understood what she'd been hoping for. As hard as it seems - and as hard as it is to see - we do all move from where we started. I found some of the book - especially the more religious bits hard going - and skipped over them - whilst appreciating even at the time that they might bring some comfort to others. CS Lewis - wrote this book after the death of his love - portrayed in the film 'Shadowlands' - and despite being a rather restrained individual and theology boffin - went on to care for her son and from there we get the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe series - which made many kids like me really enjoy books. I still have that original copy with all of the yellow stickies - and treasure it always as it tells my journey back to the land of the living far better than I could! I've also bought copies for and passed on the yellow sticky advice on a very few appropriate occasions in the last 18 years. It has always helped. A truly great book - inspirational and untold help. If you ever find yourself in need of such a prop - well worth buying - and whilst the paper version and the yellow stickies - tried and tested - bookmarks or notes on kindle probably do the same thing. I've just looked it out again on the recent death of a close friend's husband - and will be passing on a copy again.

I have it as a gift to a friends who lost his father, I haven’t read it myself so can’t give detailed review. I received the book in time and was in a good state

I bought this book after my mother died. I needed something to occupy my mind. No one else - no relative, no friend (most of them too afraid to talk about my loss anyways) managed to put grief into words as well as C.S.Lewis managed to do in this book. His words are balm for broken hearts. His observations about his own grief calmed me down and helped me cope. At first I was afraid he would put too much weight on a Christian god and/or afterlife - since C.S.Lewis was a Christian apologist himself after a bout of atheism in his youth and many books about grief do (which is oh, so silly!) - but my fears were unfounded. I as a person that is 80% atheist and 20% agnostic felt understood.