There is nothing I can say that will comfort or ease the pain. I will never understand why young people are lost. And my heart rails against the injustice.

For each ecstatic instant
We must an anguish pay
In keen and quivering ratio
To the ecstasy.

For each beloved hour
Sharp pittances of years,
Bitter contested farthings
And coffers heaped with tears. [Emily Dickinson]

The sorrow and pain of his loss will be as deep as the joy of his life was high.