14 July 1960 in a letter to Peter Bide
Joy died at 10 o’clock last night in the [hospital]. I was alone with her at the moment, but she was not conscious. I had never seen the moment of natural death before. It was far less dreadful than I had expected—indeed there’s nothing to it. Pray for her soul. I have prayed twice daily of late for us four together—you and Margy and me and Joy. I shall continue for you two.
I can’t understand my loss yet and hardly (except for brief but terrible moments) feel more than a kind of bewilderment, almost a psychological paralysis. A bit like the first moments after being hit by a shell.
I’d like to meet. Perhaps I could come up to town some day when you are in town and take you to lunch at the Athenaeum. For I am—oh God that I were not—very free now. One doesn’t realise in early life that the price of freedom is loneliness. To be happy one must be tied. God bless all three of us.
That Uncle Jack felt much as I did two years and nine months ago at once surprises me, and doesn’t. I’m sure that Lewis would agree with me as to the ambiguous emotions that I yet experience when recalling Nancy’s death. As soon as I think I’m finally over the loss, something happens, like the above excerpt from Lewis’ correspondence, that trounces upon my still-sensitive wound. In fact, that is exactly what such loss is, as when a major organ is ripped from your body. It isn’t a surgically precise incision, either. Rather, it reminds me of one of the Indiana Jones flicks, where this evil, demonic priest reaches into the chest of his sacrificial victim, grabs the man’s still-beating heart, and slowly withdraws it. Only in my case, my heart wasn’t removed, but the intangible essence of the woman to whom I gave my heart.
So, why do I want to repeat that process. Why do I pray for God to place another woman in my life, a kindred spirit with whom I can share all of my trivial, seamy, traumatic, joyful, and exciting thoughts, and the moments in time that stimulate them? As much as I dislike some aspects of my temperament and thought-life, I need to share them with one who is willing to love me as doggedly as does my Savior, to whom I can be accountable, and who will give me that loyal boot in the tush that I need so badly. Yet, through my failed attempts at meeting that need I’ve learned to allow God to search for such an exceptional person. What he wants for me is infinitely better than anything, or anyone, that I could flush out of life’s bramble bushes.
Father God, in the name of your only begotten Son Jesus, I ask you for whatever you deem best for me. Though I feel the need for a woman meet for me, and feel it badly, I yield to your infinite wisdom in that, and every other matter in my life. Your love for me is unfathomable, as you gave your Son over to the cross’s curse, just to wash away my sin and reconcile me to yourself, so I trust your every judgment in every area of my life.
I thank you, Father, for hearing and answering my prayer in any way that you see fit. As your handmaiden responded to you, “Let it be done unto me according to your word.”