a friend passes

tonight, when i got home, my nephew told me of the death of a class mate. I graduated with many people, approximately two hundred and fifty. One down. Two hundred fortynine to go. I will miss this existence. People vanish into thin air. People die. People will follow their will into oblivion. I will ocntinue my useless course through this dispensation of time. I cannot comprehend the horrible trauma constricted upon my friend. I understand he had been broadsided in an intersection in the valley of Salt Lake City a few days ago. He could not hold on any longer and left this world with a goodbye.

So what of him now. He will have a death ceremony. His life will depart into another realm of existence. We will all do that one day. Maybe not as quickly as he, but in our own due time and our own fitting demise. I will never understand life as well as those whom have passed along into the vultures crow because it is far easier to decipher something from a standpoint having nothing to do with it.

Mister Tyrel Demon, though an adopted child, was no outcast. He had his friends. He had his peculiarities. He was a person of his own mark, of course, ideally the same as us all, material wants and physical desires. I cannot end his life in a mere few words and sentences, but some where in my writings I will immortalize all the deceased I have known.