Do not
Go gentle
Into that good night.
Rage,
Rage
Against the dying of the light.
Caitlin,
Was named after Dylan Thomas’s wife.
She did not go gently;
She spent almost half her short life fighting, raging, railing, beleaguered, and battling;
Trying to free herself from the savage clutches of her illness.
When she was in love with the world,
She was
Breathtakingly beautiful,
Vivacious, exuberant, inquisitive, creative
And outstandingly intelligent –
Maybe too intelligent,
And too fragile,
To survive long in this world.
She was disarmingly naive... yet old beyond her years;
She was gentle, kind and loving;
And she was stubborn, obstinate and headstrong;
Her appetite for knowledge was huge, voracious, eclectic and intense –
She wanted to understand the whole world, and how it worked;
She could have been anything she wanted to be –
Artist, musician, architect or author;
Scientist, pharmacist, doctor or counsellor;
She could have gone anywhere, been anyone; done anything that she wanted;
But all that she wanted
Was to understand the world;
And her place in it.
She loved anything
Small, and weak, and vulnerable –
Animals, small children, soft petalled flowers;
But yet,
She could not find
A love for her own self.
She loved everything that stimulated and excited her:
Music, movies, getting dressed up, going out.
But somehow – it just wasn’t enough.
And
When her world was a dark and ugly place,
When her world writhed with demons, she fought...
She fought valiantly;
She fought long, and hard, and valiantly.
She fought those demons to the death,
And she has found her peace,
The demons can no longer torment her...
Only days ago,
She and I ran through a drenching shower together,
Laughing and giggling like children,
The dogs pulling at their leashes,
With the joy, and the excitement, of the moment.
Only days ago,
We wondered together,
How the world could be so cruel and senseless,
To send young men off to war.
Only a lifetime ago...
She was, but a beautiful, and fleeting, candle in the wind.
I cupped my hands around her soul,
To protect the weak
And vulnerable spark,
To nurture it
To strengthen it;
I wanted to stop the wind, the rain, the pain,
To keep that warm strong glow from flickering,
And fading.
She would never
Believe that
The world loved her;
That
We all loved her;
That
I loved her;
And I still do...
Love her;
And I always will...
Love...
My daughter.
She will be forever alive,
In my heart,
For
I know now that:
This world was never meant
For one
As beautiful as her.
