The weary soldier held on. His palm was slick with perspiration even though his comrade's touch was cold.

Let go, said his comrade, from below the ledge.

No.

He knew it was futile. He didn't have the strength to save his friend, and he didn't have the strength to let him fall.

You can't hold on to me forever.

I'm going to try.

You can't help me. Eventually I'll slip away.

You're going to live. Somehow.

I'm dead weight and you know it. Forget about me. Save yourself.

I don't need saving.

You have a wife.

I do.

You have a child.

A boy.

He needs his father.

You also needed me.

He's just a child.

So were you.

You can't live in the past.

The past is all I have.

You'd have so much more if you just let go.

I can't.

It's time to say goodbye.

It's not goodbye, said the soldier.

I'll pull you down with me.

Sometimes I wish—

I'll pull you down with me.

If our situations were reversed—

They weren't.

But if they were—

I would let you fall.

You'd pull me up.

I would let you fall.

You always pulled me up, always. I wasn't strong enough.

You were stronger than most.

I let you fall.

You're holding on to me now.

I wish I were with you.

You have to move on.

I can't move on when you're beneath me.

You must.

Why?

You lived. I didn't.

I wish I'd gone with you.

It's better there.

Here there is pain—

And joy.

And War—

And peace.

And Death—

But there is also life.

And there is silence. And there is loneliness. There is emptiness here. The others don't understand. They don't know what it was like for us.

That's our gift to them.

What will I do now? What should I do?

You'll move on. You'll move on, but also remember. That's why I had to die.

So I'd remember?

So there would be something worth remembering.

The soldier unclenched his fist, and released the dirt from his comrade's grave. He released him, and let him rest in peace. Because he was the reason.

He was the reason that peace was possible.