A Grief Observed: A Talk on the Anniversary of My Parents’ Deaths, with C.S. Lewis

Here is a little piece I did this time last year. This past week had that frightful cold snap once again–experienced throughout our entire continent–and the cold has finally broken. But on this day, February 4th, it is hard not to go back to that night when I was fourteen. I hope this post can be helpful to those of you who are mourning a loss, or who are guiding others along the way of grief.

It was a little eerie returning home on Saturday evening. My wife and I went to see the Oscar-nominated SF Fairy Tale, The Shape of Water. The night was cold, terribly cold. With the wind chill it was approaching -30 Celsius (below -20 Fahrenheit). As I got out of the car I smelled wood burning in the frozen air, and I remembered the night of Feb 3rd to 4th, 1990.

That night was bitter cold–even colder than the early hours of yesterday morning. My father and his girlfriend had been out for the evening, while my siblings and I watched hockey and found our way to bed. In the middle of the night I was awoken by the smell of wood burning, and then my sister was in my room. The house was on fire and my father was battling the flames in the kitchen. In terror and confusion, we found our way into the Arctic night. In the seconds that it took to move away from our burning home, the wet cloth I had for breathing was frozen in my hand. My father stood for a moment on the threshold, looked at us, then went into the house for my baby brother.

We never saw either of them again. My father was nearly 34, and my brother was nearly 3. I was 14 at the time.

The 4th of February is that day of memory for me. I’ve talked before about the power of grief, of loss, and of what it means to have an event like this in our past. Life moves ever on and on, though, and so does love and loss. The 2016 anniversary of Feb 4th was spent in St. Martha’s Hospital in Antigonish, Nova Scotia, at the bedside of my dying mother. She succumbed to cancer a week later on Feb 12th, 2016. She was 61.

What followed was a profound period of grief for me. It was unlike anything I have ever experienced, less emotional than physiological. I largely hid this experience from people in the community–not because of shame, but because I did not always know what I was experiencing.

In the wake of her death, I thought I was mostly okay. I wrote an intimate and elaborate obituary that I thought she would be proud of. Almost immediately I went back to work. It was not until last summer, a year and a half after my mother’s passing, that I started to see clearly. In all the time I thought I was on my own street, I was in a gray town of choking mist and indistinct buildings. Last summer, in my garden, my fingers in dirt, colours started to peek out of the gloom. About a month ago I began to breathe more clearly again.

I never understood, even in all the moments of grief and loss in my relatively short life, what this experience could be like.

I teach a C.S. Lewis course at The King’s College in New York City. This past week they experienced a very personal moment of loss. Distant though I was, I could see from afar how many in the campus were reeling, and generally how strong the response of staff and students was to the tragedy. I decided to add a short lecture to my course on the Fiction and Fantasy of C.S. Lewis. This lecture considers Lewis’ A Grief Observed, using my own story of loss and Lewis’ memoir of grief to draw out seven lessons we can learn about grief. While I don’t talk about the lasting damage that my period of grief has caused–my current clarity negates nothing of the past–I do share personally with my TKC students as I invite them to think Christianly about grief.

And I thought I would share the lecture with you. If this can be helpful in your own experience of grief, or in support of your thoughts about the problem of suffering in our world, or in your study of C.S. Lewis, I hope you will feel free to share it. If your own grief is very close and keen, it might perhaps be wise to come back to this in the days ahead. An intellectual response to pain is poor fare for those starving of loneliness or loss. But for those that are ready to think about grief–and to know the experience of the community of mourners in the world around you–this may be a resource for you.

About Brenton Dickieson

“A Pilgrim in Narnia” is a blog project in reading and talking about the work of C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, and the worlds they touched. As a "Faith, Fantasy, and Fiction" blog, we cover topics like children’s literature, apologetics and philosophy, myths and mythology, fantasy, theology, cultural critique, art and writing. This blog includes my thoughts as I read through Lewis and Tolkien and reflect on my own life and culture. In this sense, I am a Pilgrim in Narnia--or Middle Earth, or Fairyland. I am often peeking inside of wardrobes, looking for magic bricks in urban alleys, or rooting through yard sale boxes for old rings. If something here captures your imagination, leave a comment, “like” a post, share with your friends, or sign up to receive Narnian Pilgrim posts in your email box. Brenton Dickieson is a father, husband, friend, university lecturer, and freelance writer from Prince Edward Island, Canada. You can follow him on Twitter, @BrentonDana.
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14 Responses to A Grief Observed: A Talk on the Anniversary of My Parents’ Deaths, with C.S. Lewis

  1. K.M. Lutzo says:

    Brenton, The timing of your post and video is divine intervention. Today is the first anniversary that my boyfriend took his own life. I still can’t believe it’s been a year already. Losing him was my introduction to the multifaceted world of grief. As you said in your video, we are not automatons which means we all grieve differently, for all of four relationships are different. I agree that C.S. Lewis did not lose his faith during his grief, but rather engaged with God to question His silence, which means he was still talking to God. I appreciate your post and wish you peace during your time of remembrance for all of your losses.

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  2. Hi, Professor – Sorry to hear of your losses. My dad lost his father around the same age you lost yours though in completely different circumstances. But as this other comment shows, good has come out of it, which God, of course, intended all along. God bless. Anne Marie 🙂

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  3. L.A. Smith says:

    Blessings, Brenton. Thank you for being willing to share your pain so that others may have theirs lessened. A very Scriptural thing to do!

    Like

  4. This is such a beautiful post. Thank you for your willingness to be vulnerable. Both ‘A Grief Observed’ and ‘The Problem of Pain’ have been constant companions with me through my own grief. My father is the director of the C.S. Lewis Institute in Dallas, TX. I’ve shared your post him because I know that so much of what you have shared will resonate with him. Best Wishes!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks Rebekah, for this note. Grief leads us to strange companions, some better than others. I am glad that Lewis has been helpful (as he was to me). And I’m glad this post was a wee bit of help, and thanks for passing it on. I do know the Institute’s work!

      Liked by 1 person

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