I don’t think of death as a triumph, (except for maybe Hitler or anyone like him) but as a necessity to life. If no one died than no one would need to be born. When my father was ill and I first realized that his illness would one day kill him, I told him it was unfair. He said living forever would be unfair to those who would come after him. He said he needed to make room for my children one day. His time would one day over. He explained it like the seasons. Winter was always harsh but spring would always follow with new flowers. And I would love the new flowers just as much or even more than the last flowers.