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Soon, we will all go to visit her, that silent screaming one that broke our hearts a year past. If I miss her, it will be because she marked the beginning of tragedy upon tragedy; if not, it is for the same. From her, we learn that Death testifies to the cruel frigidity of Life, which is chaotic in its mercy, inconsistent in its gifts, and of the darkest humour. No matter how one frames Carol’s passing on, no matter what words of comfort be found, in the end, all that is certain is that these attempts of balm are but well-meaning hands to cover our eyes from seeing the deep, profound cruelty that is this cancer-stricken world in which we live. Our only option is to fight as she did into the creeping shade.