Do Not Go Gentle - Part 1

'I don't understand.'

*

These were words that I had become all too familiar with lately, words that were uttered so often that they flew out of my mouth with ease; a torrent over which I had no control. But there were a multitude of things I couldn't understand of late. I didn't understand why we had to crowd round the radio like penguins in the evenings, ears glued to it as though we had suddenly become deaf. I didn't understand why I had to spend my free time digging a hole in the ground; and I espically didn't understand why my bother Charlie, in an act of supposed self  - sacrifice and bravery, to desert us for a life of blood, battle and imminent death.

*

He stands before me now, soft brown eyes imploring, pleading with me to let him go. But I won't.

*

'You don't have to understand what I'm doing, Lizzie. You simply have to understand me.' He places his hands on my shoulders, but I shake him off angrily, scowling through unshed tears. He sighs. 'You know me, Lizzie. Better than anyone. I promise you I'm doing this for the right reasons. And I'll come back. I'll come back with a medal and you can hang it from that hook on your wall you haven't used, and smile whenever you see it because I've made you proud.'

*

All this time, my head had ben bowed, observing the movements of my buckled shoe through the sea of mud around us. Now, I raise it, a smile creeping across my lips despite myself, my humour awakened at his audacity.

*

'What makes you so sure you'll get a medal?' I ask. He chuckles, then lowers his voice so it is barely above a whisper. 'I can feel it, Lizzie. In here.' He points to the place where his heart resides an smiles before kneeling down so his height matches mine. 'I want you to promise me something, Lizzie.' I nod for him to continue. 'I want you to promise me that you'll take care of Mother for me. You're strong, Lizzie. Stronger than I could ever be. She'll need you in the dark times ahead.' The tenderness with which he speaks these words is suddenly too much, and the tears that threatened to spill now do, running a river over my cheeks before hurtling down to the ground below.

*

'Ah, now, we'll be having none of that,' he says softly, attempting to dry my tears. It doesn't work. The tears seep past his thin fingers. Pain, I realise, always finds a way through in the end. I sniff quietly, eventually drying them with my jersey sleeve. At last, I take a deep breath. 'You have to promise me something too.' He nods, his mouth curling into a small smile. He thinks I'm joking. 'No, I mean really promise,' I say earnestly, and his smile morphs into a frown of perplexity. There's a pause while he stands up again, wincing as he straightens his legs. 'I'll do anything, Lizzie,' he says gently. 'What is it?'

*

'Remember that poem our Father used to read to us before he died?' I ask, and he nods silently. 'Well, I want you to carry it's message with you, wherever you go. Never go gentle, not for anyone or anything. Always fight for what you believe in - it doesn't matter what other people think. And if -,' I take a shaky breath, '- If you have to die, you must die fighting; not cowering, nor accepting. It's what Father would have wanted. For both us.' His eyes glisten with tears, and he looks away, blinking. He feels the loss of Father as much as I do, and I ache to embrace him, to smother his pain against my own. But I refrain from doing so. Instead, I give him the time he needs to conceal it.

*

When he looks back at me, his face is set in determination. I know it is time for him to go. Wordlessly, I pick up his satchel and hand it to him. He takes it slowly. Ruffling his hair awkwardly, he extends his hand, intending to have me shake it. I shake my head in amusement, then I'm in his arms, his formal farewell pushed away and forgotten.

*

He hugs me tightly, and whispers in my ear, 'I promise, Lizzie. To the end of the world and back, I promise. But those words are meant for you too. Never go gentle, Lizzie. Even when you don't see another way. I know you'll honour the promise, as I will.' He kisses the top of my forehead and lets me go. He turns, and starts walking. Away from home. Away from love. Away from me.

*

Every step he takes creates detriment somewhere inside, and the Sun sets as he walks towards the horizon at the end of the plain. It's rays make the sky bleed, and as he turns one last time and waves, a black dot amidst the scarlet glow, I feel as though I am bleeding too.

End of Part 1.