AN: Slight spoilers for The Last Battle. You should know I do not own anything, so I shall say no more on this matter...
Faith Abundantly
I lost my faith.
But not really; it had always been waiting. Calling me with a still, small voice—reminding me. Waiting for me to turn and remember. Acknowledge it.
I focused my gaze upon the graves where my siblings had been buried and traced their names with my eyes; committing the scrawl to memory like I always do this time of year. Kneeling, I touched the symbols etched on each stone with reverence. I fought quite hard to have our Narnian seals stamped next to the elaborate script of names. I even made sure mine was similarly adorned. As I leaned back, my mind delved into the memories of Narnia, Aslan, and my beloved siblings.
Coming here always makes me introspective.
I lost myself. And in turn I had lost them—before they had ever set foot on that train.
I still remember the moment I convinced myself Narnia was but a dream and a children's game that should be lost to time. It was not long after returning to our world after helping Prince Caspian and it still saddens me that I only lasted a bit over one year before I started pulling away.
I remember Aslan speaking to Peter and me about never returning. He spoke on how we had learned everything that Narnia could teach us. I thought he meant we had nothing left to learn. But I had forgotten that our original world had lessons to teach as well. Lessons I ignored for so long. My siblings never stopped learning, which was a crucial difference between us. I became stuck in a prison of my own devising.
At first, they tried to turn my head and heart back to its original state; always speaking of our adventures and how they applied to our world, bringing up parallels between the two, inserting Aslan into every conversation and moment. I stubbornly ignored them which urged them to corner me during our last family holiday to the shore. I discounted the message at the time, but I can still hear their voices speaking words of love, faith, pain, and loss; telling me that because they were not able to cut through my obstinacy, they would trust in Aslan and, in turn, miss me. I was not able to comprehend what they meant…until my heart was softened years later. They mourned my loss and in turn spoke of mine. But, it was not death they were speaking of—many years before theirs happened—it was the way I pulled back emotionally from them and forcibly segregated us. We splintered into "them and me." Of course they still loved me and I them, but I realised that their knowledge of Narnia and my avoidance of anything related drove a wall between us as easily as the vast ocean did when I travelled to America.
I know the reason why it was so; I was not in Narnia. It is simple to have faith when one is surrounded by what one has a belief in.
On their return, my siblings' faith, hope, and love were just as strong throughout their 'England' lives as in Narnia. I let despair and loneliness eat away at me; burning away my faith and hope until I was a shell. I let it. I took the easy way.
Peter was Magnificent. Lucy was Valiant. Edmund was Just.
I was not truly Gentle until several years after my siblings were gone from this world.
But they always saw what I was to become. It is why they pushed me so hard and continued to believe in Aslan. And in me. I only wish they were with me when it happened.
Over many visits to the clearing where the stone markers stand, I have realised the true reason why I was not on that train; Aslan was giving me a second chance. I know it may seem odd, but I now firmly believe it. I needed to learn the lessons I had been putting off since I was a teenager. My thoughts may be morbid when I say, 'I can't learn any lesson if I am dead,' but it is true. I received a jarring wakeup call and I thank Aslan that I finally heard it.
I know where my siblings are—not buried under cold dirt, but in Aslan's Country. Waiting.
Aslan waited for me; it seems fair that I should wait to join my siblings.
Because I will see them again.
Aslan made sure of it.
Until then, I visit their graves once a year and place flowers at their feet.