I know a girl who has been dead longer than she was alive. She lived more than anyone I have ever known. She died on my dad's birthday. He stopped enjoying birthdays. Then he died, too. On a Sunday. During a Chargers game.
Yesterday he would have been 60.
I've stopped being sad when I think about either of them. I got to spend their lives with them, how can I be sad about that? Their lives were examples to me; examples of both how to and not to live. Their souls are intertwined with mine. My life is richer for having loved them.
There is no real point to this. It's just what has been in my brain since sometime yesterday.
I think I know what you want...