Before I even started into the actual book by C.S. Lewis, I found some interesting nuggets in the foreword by Madeleine L'Engle (another favorite author - I love A Wrinkle in Time). She wrote the foreword after her own husband passed. She expressed how different her experience was. She and her husband had been married a long time and he died after having lived a full life. She thinks those things made her loss easier to deal with than that of C.S. Lewis. Interesting. I just think everyone is different and what could be a blessing for one might be a struggle for the next.
I really liked this statement:
"For the true consolations of religion are not rosy and cozy, but comforting in the true meaning of that word: com-fort: with strength."
My experience has truly been one of comfort. I have felt so strengthened, beyond my own inclination. I have been strengthened in making big decisions without much second-guessing (a bad habit I've struggled with since my youth). I've been strengthened in my parenting and in being a daughter to Hank's parents and a sister to his siblings. I've been strengthened in my own journey of faith.
Fort is Latin for strength and is the root for fortify, fortification, and of course: fort. When I think of those words, I think of walls. High, solid walls to keep the enemy out. Of course there must also be a path and entrance to allow friends in.
Who are my enemies and who are my friends?
I think my enemies include self-pity (this truly leads me into a pit of despair and is not fun or productive) Worldliness is a formidable enemy (sometimes it is so easy to be swept away by the emptiness popular culture has to offer). Self-doubt is definitely an enemy. Impatience is also a bitter enemy. How is it that I can expect Em to be patient when she wants something but then I can be so demanding when it is time to go or do? I need to be much more patient with her and with myself.
My friends are prayer, family, neighbors, the scriptures, faith, beauty, society, activity, writing, reading good things, service. I have so many friends. I must be careful to let them into my comfort.
There are times in my widow-haze that I have gone about the motions of living but I think I've had the drawbridge up and the doors locked tight. This hasn't been deliberate but I think the haze has created an aloofness that has kept other good people and things outside of my comfort.
Even grief, when observed, can be a friend. It is what is necessary to take us through this bitter place into the next phase, whatever that may be. I'm not talking about "getting over it." I'm talking about feeling it. We can't taste the sweet unless we are willing to taste the bitter.
I'm reading this book and doing some other things in my life to better observe my grief (which is very different than weekly trips to the cemetery or icons of Hank around my house). I think it is a great step on my continuing journey in widowhood.
I remain,
Merry Widow
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