There’s a thing about death, when you write about someone dying, you yourself knowing the character in that death feel a sense of remorse and sadness, not just for those they left behind, but also because you knew them and the memories they gave you. When someone you know in true life has passed away, it’s something different, because they’re real. It’s a piece of a memory or you or someone you care about, there’s not much difference really except one you can’t turn back the pages to get back those fond memories. Sure you can have pictures, but memories are fickle, they don’t always attach to pictures, yet they strongly hold onto words. Loss is something that can consume you, or light like a flame and fizzle out in time. Grieving is different too, for everyone. I can’t get my feelings across without writing it for example. That’s how I deal with my loss, my pain, my sadness. It’s a sad day despite how nice it looks outside my window. Once something real dies, it’s truly unrecoverable.