A particular grief

C.S. Lewis wrote A Grief Observed in the wake of the death of his wife Joy.

It was not incidental that Lewis called his book A Grief Observed, rather than just calling it Grief Observed.

He called it A Grief Observed because in it he was observing a particular and specific grief--his grief.

Grief, I feel, is always specific and particular, it is never universal. No, I'm sorry, that's not right. Grief certainly is universal but the experience is not universal/

This blog is specific and particular. It is about my particular grief in the wake of the death of the woman more for than any person in the world--my Faye.

Grief is specific and particular. That is not to say there are not lessons to be learned about grief. And that is not to say there are no ways to help walk people through their. And yes, there are people who learned about grief, about how it affects lives. And they can take grieving people by the hand and walk with them through their valley.

But, again, grief is specific and particular. As I share my particular grief over the loss of that particular person I pray it will be illuminating to others. And I pray it will touch hearts and minds and maybe, just maybe, bring encouragement. I feel I have been graced with a particular ability to dig into my heart and express my grief.

It is, however, A grief observed.

God bless and keep you.

Pressing on.

Precious Memories - Patty Loveless

Flooded with memories

I've been flooded with memories lately--memories of the beautiful lady that was part of the very fabric of my very being for 24 years. Memories of her many strengths and of her few weaknesses. And flashbacks to our last few days together.

These memories are washing over me after a month or so of genuine happiness. The sting of those memories has faded. They no longer debilitate me as they once but they still make me ache.

Please don't tell me it's time to move on. I am moving on but this grief thing is an unruly beast. Truly it is. And it cannot be directed. It is untamed. That is simply truth and reality.



So it is taking me for a ride again, an unexpected ride but not truly because I've learned to take each day by itself--focussing my mind on God and His hope but not being surprised by surprises.

As I've been in that place of memory I was reminded of something I wrote lying sleepless in bed on the early morning of Jan. 28--my first day alone.

My Queen, my precious, beautiful Queen Faye,
Please take a moment to rest in the presence of Jesus,
Let all Heaven ring with your amazing laugh,
Bless them with your beautiful smile,
And wait for me,
But maybe, just maybe,
There's no waiting in Heaven where time is no more,
Or maybe, since 10,000 years is but a single day maybe you'll be waiting but a few minutes,
Now my head hurts.
On your side you drink deeply and fully of joy; on this side I can do no more than sip,
On your side you possess; on this side I can only long and ache and wait,
On your side you know Reality and Truth; on this side I have but a shadow and a glimpse,
I will see you soon my love.

Pressing on

New challenges

In A Grief Observed C.S. Lewis says something to the effect of he was either grieving all day, or thinking about grieving all day.

I can absolutely relate to that sentiment. The deepest pangs of grief have largely--not entirely but largely--passed but now even if I'm not grieving all day, I find myself thinking about grieving all day. Well really not all day. I am doing better than that but certainly much of the day.

Even getting through the deepest part of grief presents an odd kind of challenge related to the process of rebuilding my life.

I'm now in a process of restoring order my life--in my house--in how I eat--in how I structure my day--and in becoming productive again. That refers to business but there is more to being productive than working on my business. It also refers largely to using my time well again. And that means disciplined. And that means stepping into activities I don't necessarily want to do but choose to do.

Each step I take to make myself more productive and active and healthy reminds me of grief and of the fact that I'm life building alone. And so it awakens that emptiness.

But I do press on--and each day, inch by inch, it gets better.

Conquering this mountain

Mountains and conquering the mountain in my life has been on mind literally from the time Faye died.

So I have a dream, or you could call it a bucket list item. In order to declare ultimate victory over the mountain in my life I plan to take an Everest trek, probably sometime next year. It might come later but I can't put it off indefinitely.

To be clear, this is not about climbing Everest. I wouldn't ask some poor Sherpa to risk his life trying to haul my soft white backside up Everest. It's a hike, typically flying into Kathmandu and then into the Tibetan village of Lukla.  From there it's a trek to Everest base camp.

The elevation goes from some 2,860 metres (9,383 feet) to about 4,800 metres (16,900).

I'm declaring this publicly. I will, by God's grace, conquer my mountain.

Before the Throne of God Above - Selah [with lyrics]

Overthinking as usual

I'm nothing if I'm not guilty of overthinking. I should be in overthinkers anonymous, if there is such a thing.

I had a dream last night, just before waking up.

I was on an old boat, some kind of beat up old fishing boat. This boat was being lowered into the water by a gigantic crane. I could look down and see the water, which was dark brown.

The worrisome thing was the crane was lowering the boat far too quickly, almost just dropping it. The boat hit the water and instantly went under. The water was swirling around the boat. I was under.

And then, almost as quickly, the boat popped back to the surface, like a cork. That was it.

Weird dream, right? But it stuck with me. I mean it really stuck with me.

It seems to picture my life. I was safe and dry and contented in my old. And then, just like that, I was under water--brown filthy water.

But I have been restored to the surface. Reality and hope and security. All together. The reality of pain, and grief, and then hope of restoration.

Is this just something bubbling up from my subconscious or was God speaking to me? I have my thoughts. Come to your own conclusions.