Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Can you remember when you first heard these beginning lines from the famous poem by Dylan Thomas? Perhaps in secondary school? Or in college? It was published in the early 1950s and has remained one of his best-known poems for decades.
It had such ferocity, such passion. It swept many of us up in its simple words. Yes, we said to ourselves, yes of course we will rage against the dying of the light. We wouldn’t imagine doing otherwise.
I don’t know about you, but I was young and romantic when I first heard this poem. It sounded so brave and so right.
If you hear Dylan Thomas reciting it, with his very musical Welsh voice, it is even more so.
But, in the light of our years of experience, is it so right after all?
Thinking About Dying
Something made me think about this poem recently, and for the first time, I began to wonder whether I agreed with it anymore.
Younger readers, however defined, may not think about dying all that much. It feels a long way away – unless you have some life-threatening disease or are closely involved with someone who does.
It’s the kind of thought we easily put away for another time, further down the line. Nothing to worry about now.
But as we grow older, into our 70s and beyond, we begin to think about a lot of things, including dying.
We are aware of friends dying, not to mention many others around us. We notice that the obituary pages are full of people younger than us.
It makes us begin to ponder how we will cope with this last challenge.
Attitudes to Dying
I have spent some time over my life thinking about dying for two reasons.
First, 30 years ago, I wrote a book based on interviews with young people with HIV/AIDS, back when the diagnosis was essentially a death sentence.
The men and women interviewed were incredibly inspiring. They were not generally raging at their situation, as Dylan Thomas urges them to, but were doing their best to live as well as they could for the limited time they had left.
And they were remarkably concerned for others. Many were involved in support groups for other people with the disease. Not surprisingly, those with children were particularly concerned to ensure that they would be well looked after.
I found them all very moving and, indeed, wise. I called the book Wise Before their Time.
Caring for the Dying
Secondly, roughly 15 years ago, I wrote another book based on interviews with nurses, doctors and many others looking after the dying in two hospices.
They, too, were inspiring but for another reason. They were very thoughtful of the needs of the dying people in their care – and did their very best to respond to them.
For instance, they helped hospice patients to write important letters to family members or encouraged them to make their peace with key people in their lives.
They also went the extra mile to respond to patient requests. One man, for instance, said he wanted to die under a tree and when the time came, he was taken outside to a tree.
The atmosphere in the hospices I have visited is always very tranquil. Peaceful – certainly not full of rage.
Dylan Thomas Revisited
Which brings me back to whether I would really want to rage against the dying of the light.
The simple answer is no.
Yes, I want to live life to the fullest for as long as I can, but when the time comes, I hope I will meet my end in a spirit of tranquillity.
I hope I will have said all the important things that need to be said and feel at peace with myself.
This will make my dying so much easier for family and friends, not to mention my husband if he is still here.
But it will also make it easier for me.
A version of this article was initially published by SixtyandMe.com
I often ponder this. As a pagan I see death as part of the natural cycle. Something that will come, and when it does should be embraced as much as possible. All life has value, and should be savoured as much as possible, but we are just parts of soemthing bigger, with no knowledge of what (if anything) comes next. And that's fine. It is part of what it means to be mortal. All we can know is that we know nothing, really. All we can do is act in peace, offering love and support to other beings we share this planet with. Kindness and consideration and thought for others, so that when the time comes, we can look back and know we did our best.
I love this piece and your meditation on those lines.
And I've always thought the final stanza was the key to understanding the poem. It wasn't written by a man close to the end, but by a man facing the fear and grief and panic of losing a parent. Whether he would himself rage against the dying of the light, or recommend it to his contemporaries, was beside the point: he wanted, needed, for his father to want to stay with him more than to be ready for death. Not a mediation on one's own death, but on losing a parent.