Arthur

Arthur was my cousin. He was much older than me, and I had only met him a few times.
He went to the Army, and left his son Jack and girlfriend Zoe behind.
He was in the Army for what seemed like forever. I remember having a conversation with him on the phone once.
His voice was sweet and friendly, and he had a happy, warm demeanour. I can't remember meeting him, but this I can recall.
After coming back from the Army, he had planned to travel around Tasmania, visiting his family members, including us.
He never made it to us. We never saw him. He had visited everyone else, but not us. Fate? I don't know...but it's tragically ironic.
On his way to us, his car had crashed into a power box. He had been trapped by his seatbelt. The car bust into flames,
And he was burnt alive. Surrounded by flames, burning alive. 
My mum was asked to identify his body. It was char black, but she knew it was him.
He died in 2004, just after New Year's.
At his funeral, they played Ghetto Gospel-Tupac and Brothers In Arms-Dire Straights. 
He was such a beautiful, warm person.
Why the hell did he have to die?? I never even got to see him.