She tried to resist, her deep steely spirit attempting to command her mind's eye to flutter open, to lift up from

Dismal, dismal, dismal
Why does it all seem
So dismal, dismal, dismal
That's not me not me not me

Her spirit was too low, fathoms way far below, for an immediate response.

She felt herself drifting away again. Away from the blurred vision of her daughters, her son, even of him who had been there beside her, she beside him for so much of her life.

Her life. It was not be as long as she was entitled to. She had hoped - yearned - for so much more.

It was hardly yesterday she had still been in her prime. Yesterday, so long, long ago. Despite everything the gnawing illness that had jealously assailed her to try to snatch her blossoming away from her had not succeeded as it intended. Her body, though little by little ravaged from that vengeful process, was nourished and sustained by transmitted strength.

It came not from the endless medicine administered to her from every known source. Nor from radiography, therapy, more more more of the same, of whatever came into early use through time. Not from any or all of that.

It came from within within within. From the deep innermost that fed her spirit so that her spirit could invest her mind with unbelievable strength, to combine with the endless nourishment of love.

That combination had been the only one diet she could apply against the twin adversaries of her unfolding life - the relentless, jealous erosion of her body, the demanding hardship of circumstance.

It was a potent potion. A combination that seemed able to defeat the deepest attacks of despair. A light so bright and undimming it could penetrate the thickest darkness that insisted, persisted to be the threatening backcloth of her life.

Of their life. For from so early on, he was always there. And together, they had endured. Had been a double-walled bastion against daily attack. Of pain from within - Holy Saints, what pain! Of hurt from without - Blessed Spirits, how there were those who inexplicably were determined to hurt them as if the pain from within was not terrible enough.

Together they had seen hard times. Who was it that had written about that? What the dickens would he have called it had he himself been through what she had been? Still, she had soared above it. But now...

...Down...
...down
...down

she whispered in reply to a worried choked reiteration reaching her through the engulfing fog, "How are you? ... How are you?"

...Down...
...down
...down

I'm going

...down...
...down
...down

Her barely audible reply was a fresh loud signal of her spirit to her slumbering mind to open its eye. To look up and

Rise
Rise
Rise

above the consuming flood. To resist.

Resist!
Resist!
Resist!

even though it be so dismal... dismal... dismal...

Insist!
Insist!
Insist!

And her insistence, for a flash of a measureless unit of time, prevailed and conquered.

It telescoped the flickering look in her mind's eye away from the days of darkness, beyond the sky so overcast with black clouds that it seemed to be wearing a skull cap but stretched down deep over its ears. Deep deep deep down.

Away from times so dismal as to defy description. On to her childhood in the distant land where her parents had settled. A mysterious land. Of beauty and danger. Of threat and opportunity. Of cruelty and kindness.

Her father's and mother's land which they had left before it came also her own. Before

I started going

...down...
...down
...down

No! screamed her weakening but eternally rebellious spirit. No! You had not gone down down down after that. Your parents had brought you to this island. This tiny island, so mysteriously big in its own kind of mix... Of threat and opportunity. Of cruelty and kindness. Of beauty and ugliness.

Ugliness
Ugliness
Ugliness

why have you chased me so? Why?

But, no! her waning spirit insisted, commanded. Think beyond all that. Think of your youth. Your years of irrepressible exuberance. When on this tiny island your spirit learned to roam freer than it ever could in the huge constrained Africa of your childhood. Think of him.

Him!

...One eye flickered open through the heavy, remorselessly descending mist as her subconscious though that. She knew, could feel he was there. He was always there. She had grown up with him. She younger, he seemingly tougher, yet needing her to share with him her incredible strength, to stand up together to the angry waves that came or were fiendishly directed towards them.

He was always there. He was there now, she knew, as he had been for so many dragging nights...

By her side
By my side
By me
With me
He

The eye that still responded to her mind's order saw him through the heavy dark clouds. Saw him, not clearly, but understanding what his being there meant. Felt the moistness on his cheeks without being able to raise a finger to touch it. Understood the unbroken eternal message of his hand as it held her white hands in it, none whiter, he used to say.

Her mind's eye saw him as he asked yet again, How are you?... How do you feel?...

As she had done when her parents had come to her bedside when the darkness was not as thick yet - it seemed so long long long ago - and she had quickly put on a brave face to calm the fear trembling from their eyes, their quivering voices, she tried to smile. To force the muscles in her emaciated face once more into an assurance to him. Which, underneath the energy of her resisting, fighting will, she knew he would not believe.

I'm all right, my darling, she mumbled...

...Even as her mind reiterated, I'm going down... down... down...

Her spirit jerked her head back. And again it forced her mind's eye to open. To telescope above the darkness. To reach

Out
Out
Out

And a weak smile did come to her lips as she remembered a time when they had been away together, their growing infants with them, and their plane had been delayed coming in to land, the fog so thick it could be it would have to turn away.

But it did not. As they watched it from behind the terminal windows taxiing in under the dismal downcast sky, they could see other planes taking off every half-minute and...

Look, Mum! - her eldest child cried in wonder and incipient fear - the planes are disappearing into the dark.

And...

Look! Look! Look! - the planes are becoming no more! - cried her other children.

And he, so quick, so strong, had reassured them, explained the illusion, tried to still their fear.

The children had carried it with them onto their plane. They had gripped their seats fiercely as with gathering strength it rushed forward and took off into the thick embankment of grey fog rolling ever closer to the runway. And they did not speak at all. Not until the machine, speeding on a steeply upward slope broke through the fog and the low clouds, then soared above them into the blue blue sky above.

See, she had told them, the dark does not last, there is nothing to fear.

Her mind's eye was closing again into fresh darkness, but the thought flickered once more to another determined signal of remembering.

Up! Up! Up
There is nothing to fear
My darling

she had told her infant grandson brought to her bedside, and he stood in hesitant silence, his eyes wide open in awareness that this was not a usual place to be, wondering why his Nanna was lying in bed, not getting up to hug him so, so intensely, to tell him how precious he was to her, how he had brought new meaning to her life.

My precious, she whispered, my precious. And she wanted to tell him how she would have slipped away from the harsh endless battle had she not learned of his conception, and had once again willed herself to push pain to the background and endure

Endure

Endure

until he arrived...

Endure
Endure
Endure
while he moved from a bundle into a being, walking haltingly towards her, loving her, sustaining her through those last borrowed few years, though now - she knew - she was losing the fight to hang on till the next awaited one was also delivered.

She felt going further further further down. But her smile returned as mind's eye now saw more clearly than ever some clear skies above the dismal dismal below.

Do not be afraid, my darling, she whispered to the memory of the child beside her on his visit, and also to the one who would be joining him soon. I shall always be there. When you look beyond the darkness, you shall see me. I shall be your light.

And her mind's eye, forced close by the relentless march of her exhausted time saw the child's face clearly, and as clearly the faces of her loved ones around her.

And her spirit told her that now it was time to rest, though she wanted so much to share this one last Christmas with those she loved so intensely, with the fair little boy who had painted new meaning into her last page. Out of nowhere came an expression she had taken to using in intimate conversation, I shall always... stay young as I am. And she sighed into endlessness...

...Even as another child approached her as if from nowhere, put his face to hers. And in a voice of profound gentleness, he told her:

Come, it is over, your eternity is beginning. This Christmas and thereafter you will be with me up here. And, worry not, in the heart of your loved ones you shall remain. Forever and ever and ever. You shall light their way. Come...