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They say life and death are one, though opposites. Death is a part of life, and we're all born to die. Born just to experience a taste of what is being alive, then perish and banished beneath the soil. This is understood, but why do so many lives have to end prematurely? What of those who can't experience the remaining time they have, either because they've fallen ill, or pain has driven them to silence? They perish silently, with nothing more than a tear of grief, and others left to carry on the burden that a loved one is gone, and gone forever.

We carry the pain of loss, while the rest sleep so soundly...