The Good die Young

“Day is forever gone; the sun sets to rise no more,” he sighed, gazing wearily at the darkening sky. “Night, eternal night; starlit and yet starless; … blank…empty…” He bowed his head again over the grey-white marble.

Stone. Cold implacable stone that would not yield the sight his tear-drenched eyes thirsted for - that hid the lifeless form of his Lisbet.  The freshly-carved inscription gleamed in the fading twilight, but he had no need to read it; it was branded on every fibre of his heart… for the thousandth time he muttered it:

“Elizabeth Kathleen O’Ryan nee O’Connell
b. 1980    d. 2005
‘The good die young’

“The good die young " the good die young,” He repeated the futile, age-old platitude again and again, staring at the stone as though he would wear it through with the very intensity of his anguish " he fell to his knees, tears cascading down his cheeks - he knelt there and wept, wept with utter, hopeless abandon.

Nathan could not accept it. He had heard often enough of people being struck down in the very prime of life, but surely, - not his Lisbet! His princess, his queen, his little darling… No. Not Lisbet. Sparkling with health and beauty and joy, glowing and vital …

He could see her vividly... Radiant, beautiful, her fecund dark eyes alight with laughter as she laughed uproariously at his clowning. One second she had stood in the doorway, waving him goodbye " In a thunderbolt she had fallen insensible into his arms... Even as he shouted wildly for help, the serene pallor of her face told him it was all useless; that nothing on earth could avail her now …

“Heart attack.” Doctor Armstrong had declared. “Entirely unexplained. I’m sorry, Nathan. There was nothing I could do-” his voice stuck in his throat and he was compelled to turn his face partly aside. As the family doctor of both the O’Connells and their neighbors the O’Ryans he had known Lisbet all her life. He had been genuinely fond of her, and the tragedy affected him profoundly.

But Nathan was blind and deaf to any grief but his own. Stunned disbelief had given way to desperate, panicked, hysterical denial. He broke free of his anxious relatives with animal ferocity; he refused all consolation. He would haunt the graveyard day and night, longing, praying, and waiting … waiting.

It was incredible, impossible that he would never to see Lisbet again, that such ardent life, such flashing vivacity had become mere stone. There just had to be some way of reaching her, of seeing her again, even if was just once; was only for last look, one burning embrace..

The bewildered children had been whisked off by his sister as soon as the funeral was over. They had clung to their father, but Nathan’s only feeling at seeing them go had been relief. The frightened, puzzled faces of his daughters, the incessant wailing of his little son for his ‘mommy’ had cut him to the heart. How could he console them, who was himself desolate; how could he explain that which he could not fathom?

As he stood lost in his memories, in all the moments of tenderness they had shared in sweet content, he remembered also the tales of love and death they had read together, and at long last he felt he knew the answer. The only answer, the answer all true lovers through the ages had found …   Kneeling before her grave he held the dagger to his throat, and smiled as he closed his eyes.

Pearl-white laced with simmering wild-rose pink her gown fluttered in the breeze, her auburn curls rippling over her slender shoulders…With a wordless cry he bounded to his feet, arms outstretched; but she stood motionless, a world of gentle reproach in her  eyes.

“And my children, Nathan?”  The echo-like voice wrung from him an anguished sob. “What of my children?”

The knife fell with a loud clatter on the impassive marble. Even as great, tearing sobs racked his emaciated frame he finally understood and accepted the full measure of his burden. Not for him was such blissful escape from the lifelong misery; he must learn to live without her, to laugh without her, for the sake of her- their- children. Only then could he find peace in death.

He prayed for strength, for courage such as hers had been, fervently if rather incoherently. When he rose and wended his way home, the gentle spring breeze blew on him whence she had stood, soothing him as a healing balm, tranquilizing his shaking body and steadying his wavering steps. His heart swelled with determination and a sense of purpose.

Many decades later, an old, spent, but contented man, he died. His deathbed was surrounded by loving children and grandchildren, but his thoughts dwelt only one shining face, one sweet smile that was bright as ever...

 “I’m coming, Lisbet,” He whispered. A peaceful smile lit his face as his spirit flew to join his beloved in death.

Reviews

[Greg Skura]

Great write! You have capture the pure emotional agony that one must endure when someone passes much to soon. Well done!

[Neva Flores Smith - Cha..]

I enjoyed this well written story. It held my attention throughout and I felt his agony........well done

[Lilly Negoi]

good description of a common (and by common please do not understand ordinary, but general) subject - how often does the living pair of a dead spouse feel the temptation of following their beloved into the grave?! and how often does the life heritage pull them back? nicely presented scene - the pace maybe a bit too accelerating up to the final lines, but it serves well the purpose of the text.

[Ibreez Shabkhez]

'He prayed for strength, for courage such as hers had been'
I fail to see how she was courageous..he was, but she was not. Great read.

[roarke]

Simple, compact, a direct path to the sentiment and message of the story. You told only what needed to be said in presenting this piece. Well done.

[ShaneBerry]

death is ever present in life, yet when the young die it seems to effect people in the strangest ways. weather you believe in a god or not, the death of one who has not gotten to live life to its fullest strikes you hard. a very deep and honest write thank you,

[falling_toxic_rain]

this is a lovely nice flowing story, sadly its does seem to be true, i have met some young ppl who have passed i hope them to RIP...

[Coyote Poetry]

It is a sad story. The good do seem to die young. I look back and wish for people who left my life too soon. I like the characters and the flow of the story. A very good ending. To return to a old love would be a good place to rest. A outstanding story. Thank you.
Coyote

[Calypso]

Wonderful. Well written.

[Loner]

Beautifully expressed ..... a thought provoking topic u have chosen to write on
which is DEATH , which is inevitable but at the same time seeing, hearing THE GOOD DIE YOUNG is not fair .... but then is life ever fair too a person?