Death Be Not Proud

Just not too many days ago, a young lady of many talents perhaps, took an earlier step towards eternal sleep. She wasn't related to him in any way. He never came across her tomes, never read what she had written, or even talked to her before.

They were just that, two strangers in a small little island spanning over 40 kilometres. Perhaps unwittingly, they had passed by each other before. On the bus, in the streets, in the malls or maybe in the clubs. Who knows? Maybe it was just a casual brush or a apolegetic nod for bumping into one another. Maybe it was just a disinterested glance by either party, taking note of his or her surroundings like any other day. Seeing who's who and tagging a self-imagined story to the face.

"She looks tired. Probably had a hard day at work."

Whatever it was, they never met. But fate and technology dictated otherwise.

The news hit the community fast.

"She's gone."

"Huh? What you mean gone?"

"She passed away, from a rare blood disorder I think."

Speechless and stunned the community was. They didn't expect this. Moreoever from a healthy young lady.

He wasn't affected in the first few days. Because they didn't know each other, that's why. But the more he read, the heavier the heart became. He could feel the emotions pouring out from the wounds. The hurt, at first trickling, then soon it became a torrent, threatening to engulf anyone who was caught in it.

And he was caught in it. The tragedy and the transience of human life. How fragile it is. So fragile that it has almost become a cliche. He felt their pain and their loss, perhaps not as much as them, but he understood.

Fare thee well, Sondra.

He understood, that was for sure.