Death And All His Friends.

Grief fills the room up of my absent child
Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me,
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,
Remembers me of all his gracious parts,
Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form.

William Shakespeare, King John. 1596.

There are acts in this world that strip our senses, starve us of faith and leave us questioning the impossible forever.

My friend lost his 19-year-old brother yesterday.

Life and death is vicious. Unfair. Incomprehensible.

I can’t begin to imagine the day this family has had; how the ropes of their family have been severed, the loss harbouring each moment of their existence, infesting each thought ever forward.

The dead do not leave us; yet sometimes the dead leave us too soon. If there is a controller of mortality, then what good has come from snatching a much beloved son and brother from our world? These are the acts that are unnatural and never able to be forgiven. These are the facts of life that snatch away our hope and project an uncontrollable anger and sorrow to the skies above.

Just a few years ago, death and other tragedies seemed beyond the scope of our perception. We were children; our life’s were sheltered by our parents love and lived within the protection of schoolyard laughter and friends. We were invincible. Infinite.

Though at times we had burdens, they were solved with a reassuring hug from our parents and a good day at school. Life was light and easy, it bounced off the walls around us, wrapped us up in its love.

Now, with each year that we age, each degree we receive, job we take, relationship we embark upon, we’re greeted not just with joy, but also with warning. It could all vanish one day. Adulthood has only brought tragedy closer to our attention; we are learning to become protectors to the new waves of children in the world, as our parents did for us.

There are days when life is beautiful and coherent, when joy rushes in and brightens even the darkest aspects of our lives, yet there are days when the darkness is simply too endless to comprehend. Sometimes clichés are redundant and nothing can console those left living. Death strips us of ourselves; grief floods our very purpose of living and controls us.

For this we have our family and friends.

Yesterday, today, and forever more, we remember Kaine Bell.