A Day Worth Remembering

Fifty years ago today one of my favorite authors was called home to heaven. I couldn't let the occasion be forgotten, could I?

The day I visited his grave was cold and snowy much like today is.  All the headstones were covered in a blanket of white.  Which is rather beautiful if you think about it, because it mirrors the bodies underneath them which are also clothed in robes of white.  At first we couldn't find it.  We had to have a kind man from the church show us the spot (likely he has had to do this many times before).  C. S. Lewis is buried behind his church.  His gravestone isn't much to look at, although someone put a beautiful cross there which is much more meaningful than flowers.  I wasn't there long: I had a full day of sightseeing in Oxford, visiting all the places he used to visit, but I will never forget it.  Some things can't be described with words, you just have to experience them.  Standing by the grave of one of your heroes is just such an event.

C. S. Lewis was a wonderful man and I will always admire him.  He was a great author, a great thinker, a great friend.  His books were my childhood.  Fifty years ago today he fell asleep in Christ and that makes the day worth remembering.