The world will never be the same! He will be mourned through the generation(s?).
Ooh, we could set a memorial for him with a twenty foot statue!
I shall compose a poem on the spot!

Sqaunder not the short life we have,
For when it be gone, naught is left.
'Tis a sad day when a man dies,
With no one left who knows his name.

that didn't happen to him. (I know it doesn't rhyme, I'm not good enough to do that on the spot.)