Loved ones, dead ones

Why is it that the ones we love, have to die? (Why is it that anybody has to die - you say). And why do the dead ones leave so many memories behind? - Not all of them are sweet - some are perhaps, so bitter that they colour our thoughts whenever we think of the departed. And yet, the sweetness is to the bitterness just as the flowing river is to the incoming tide - overwhelming.
Death comes to all, say the Scriptures - whatever is created, must get destroyed one day. Actually, do we really need the Scriptures to tell us this?
And yet, after grinding the Scriptures through a lifetime, one still has the same reaction to death: why O God, Why?
Why is it that these people, who dreamt so much for you, and for whom you dreamt so many dreams, have gone away before they could see their fulfilment?
And why, o why, do they have to come back in your dreams, night after night, even in your afternoon siestas, always smiling, looking as they did before their disease, consoling you, talking to you about various things, when you never ever dreamt of them when they were alive?