Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

The diagnosis confirmed, fury wells up and bursts forth, profane and ugly.  I heave the first object my fingers can grasp.  The words of Dylan Thomas reverberate through me, Do not go gentle into that good night.
He is a researcher, accountant, writer and teacher.  As children, he would pass the time with my brother and I, creating challenges to sharpen our observation skills and quicken our minds.  My young eyes looked up at my father and called him genius.
Now sitting at the dinner table, he turns to me and begins to give instructions.  Things that need taken care of, because this time next year he may not remember.  I want to throw up my hand and yell Stop!  Rage, rage against the dying of  the light.  Instead, I numbly nod my head and agree to his plans.  I sense the fight has gone out of him.  There is a certain resignation in his voice, an acceptance of the inevitable.  Does he notice the expression on my face?  I don't know, but then he tells me how blessed he is.  He speaks of the plans God has for him and the road he has walked with his Savior.  And he smiles.  And you, my father, there on the sad height, Do not go gentle into that good night, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
It is then I understand.  He is fighting the good fight.  He has not lost his faith, or allowed himself to drown in self pity.  He is not going gently.  He is relying on a faithful God.  A God who will sustain him and keep him.  A God who will comfort and strengthen his family.  In my anger I had forgotten.  This is not a fight we fight alone.  This is a fight we fight with a warrior who has never lost a battle and always wins the war.  With Him we never go gently into that good night.