Observing Grief (Part 3)

The present is all we have.

One of the things that comes to mind when we experience loss is the reminder to be present.

In his analysis of what he has lost, C.S. Lewis’ looks at how “reality never repeats.” A Grief Observed, pg. 25. To me, this stresses the importance of being fully present in the present moment, whether it is in time of joy or sorrow—the truth is this moment will never repeat. The good and bad moments, they are once in a lifetime. They can’t be frozen or repeated, even through a video or photograph.

It’s almost as if life says, “I am only going to say this once.”

Lewis is interesting as he wonders what God was thinking as life was unfolding for him. “Time after time, when He seemed most gracious He was really preparing the next torture.” (pg. 30) Is God ok with seeing us have happiness, joy or peace? Lewis’ ponders. What does God think of us as we are filled with what turn out to be “false hopes” and soon-to-be shattered dreams. Are we fools?

With loss, we are each confronted with the age-old question—is there a God or no God, a good God or a “Cosmic Sadist,” is there eternal life or “nonentity”? (pg. 37)

Lewis comes to the comparison that God is like a good surgeon. “The kinder and more conscientious he is, the more inexorably he will go on cutting.” (pg. 43) “If he yielded to your entreaties, if he stopped before the operation was complete, all the pain up to that point would have been useless. […] The torture occurs. If they are unnecessary, then there is no God or a bad one. If there is a good God, then the tortures are necessary. For no even moderately good Being could possibly inflict or permit them if they weren’t.” (pg. 43)

We all are subject to the “tortures” of this life, humanity and nature. It’s ok to see them as such. We are human after all. Remember we are removing judgments. It’s ok to admit that there are times where we feel pulled by life, wrung by life, that we aren’t sure how we, as humans, survive hit after hit. That is our reality. We don’t have to understand it all. At times, it shatters us like a glass bowl being dropped.

But, even in the tortures that we are all in for, we could see our pain as a form of healing from what ails us all. If we saw His hands as the hands of a good surgeon—then maybe there is hope. None of this happens overnight. Hope seeps in slowly like a sunrise upon the darkest night.

When we mourn, we cry. “You can’t see anything properly while your eyes are blurred with tears,” Lewis writes (pg. 45). I think little by little, we realize that thriving in this life is less about how we feel and more about anchoring ourselves in what we know. We should allow ourselves the time to cry. Let our tears dry. Then, we set our vision. The morning is coming.

“Weeping may last through the night, but joy comes with the morning.” Psalm 30:5

[If you missed Part I and Part II]