He died, she was born.
I'm not sure whether to mourn, or celebrate. So I do neither. Except I sit here, and I think about how flimsy it all is. Life, death, joy, sorrow, love, hate. We take ourselves a lot more seriously, I think, than the fates do. They play with our lives as if we're nothing more than cheap entertainment. Disposable characters from a lousy soap opera (you know the ones that get killed first in the horror movies), we never know when we'll get cut from the show even when everyone else will carry on as before. Sometimes it seems like we don't really matter in the grand scheme of things.
And the truth is, we probably don't.