She died, and now it’s just a reality. She was alive, now she’s dead, and it’s a reality that she died, young, and before her time. She died alone, and she never found true love. Or else if she found true love, she lost it, and in the end she was alone when she died. And though we all die alone, in the end, in this case she may have never had the chance to find true love, or the number of chances that one needs to find true love, so in the end she was doubly alone, once in the sense that we all share, and then a second time in the sense that she had not found the love of her life by the time she died.

Once she was alive, and had her whole life ahead of her, but then she got sick, held on for longer than was expected, slowly declined, and died alone, too young, before her time, without true love, and this is all what really happened. It’s done, it’s set in stone, and it’ll never be any different, no matter how differently we had imagined it before it happened, because she died, and in dying, made the facts of her death a reality.