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reposes in death. It resides in all of us. The eternal
stalker strikes and seizes life randomly, and almost
always irrationally, and frequently acts without warning.
Among us human beings, the tragic irony is that the passage of each from being into non-being leaves a trail variously of grievously irreplaceable loss, desolation, guilt, loneliness, fear of our own mortality, and, for long periods, inability to reconcile with its ultimate triumph in its finality, as it offers no second chance.
One life has been suchwise snatched away from your life, and extinguished. Mutely, in humility, we grieve with you and those close to you, on whom the void would be stamped forever.
Uncertain of our own living, we presume to reach out to you to commiserate with you, and be useful if required.