We all have things we say to console ourselves when people dear to us pass away.

If the deceased is of a certain age and lived a full life, it often does bring comfort to say, “He lived life on his own terms.” Or, “It’s a blessing that she didn’t suffer.”

But sometimes a death is just too hard to take and keeps gnawing at the gut no matter how you frame it — especially when it involves the sudden and unexpected passing of one so young that the life was too unfinished to even think about closure.

This is the case with the death in Hilo of my nephew, Jake Conol, 29, who went from feeling fine Thursday afternoon to pancreas and kidney failure and ultimately a fatal heart attack by Sunday morning.

The “whys” have family, friends and doctors all reaching for answers.

Jake was a good-hearted man with a big, infectious smile and a ready laugh that will long resonate in all who knew him.

His passion was his music; he was naturally gifted and from his grade school years could rip through complex ukulele solos he heard on the radio from artists like the Ka‘au Crater Boys.

When he was idly passing time, I’d see him drumming his fingers in intricate patterns that spoke eloquently to the rich internal rhythms of his life.

As he grew older, Jake developed a soulful voice that moved those who heard him (you can hear Jake take it “Home” here: youtu.be/8aCaYCoAru8). One of his videos got 70,000 views from around the world.

Jake was humble about his talent and flashed a shy grin and shaka when you complimented him, but artistic sensitivity didn’t equate to soft.

He was a big, tough guy and you’d regret it if you pushed him too far; he once considered training for mixed martial arts competition and raised pit bulls to deal with any bad actors who got past him.

In other words, he was a multifaceted human being whose young death leaves the deep ache of never knowing how it might have all turned out.

The family arranged an informal viewing before his cremation that was only supposed to include Jake’s parents, Jacinto and Carolyn; his brothers, Jino and Jacin; his fiancee, Coco; and a few other close family members.

But word got out and some 100 people showed up at the the mortuary, a small measure of how loved he was by the many his life had touched.

I always say that none of us knows how long we have to live, and what matters most is the fullness we bring to the time we get.

I still know this to be true, but deaths like Jake’s make it hard to feel anything but empty.

Reach David Shapiro at volcanicash@gmail.com or blog.volcanicash.net.