HERE is one heartfelt wish: that in a cynical age of anti-politics and contempt for politicians, something good will come from the absurdly early loss of Charles Kennedy at the age of just 55.

For if anyone was able to connect to ordinary citizens, someone who could as Alistair Campbell pointed out, "speak fluent human", it was Mr Kennedy, whose charm and talent were abundant and evident, but whose flaws spoke to the wider human condition. Frailty makes us more human, not less, his story reminds us.

We have a Conservative government that many view as regarding frailty as something to be punished rather than tolerated, so it is perhaps unsurprising that Mr Kennedy's instincts counselled against a coalition between his party and David Cameron. He gave warning of the punishment that would follow and his own dramatic loss in Ross, Skye and Lochaber last month was cruel proof that, as usual, his political instincts were correct.

Politics is the most brutal of games, and the demise and death of Mr Kennedy are a grim illustration of that. It is why we should not be cynical and disregarding of the breed. Yes, we should heap contempt on their duck-ponds and other vanities and expenses scandals, but we must not fall into the nihilism of saying politics do not matter, that all politicians are vile.

Mr Kennedy's memory should carry the flag for a better appreciation of our tribunes; not deference, but at least respect. We tend to sneer at the monicker "career politician" and rightly call for our parliamentarians to be more representative of the rest of us. But there was an undoubted affection for Mr Kennedy, whose natural, grounded charm worked its magic. People spot a phoney. Charlie was no phoney.

But the truth is that politics is cruel and unforgiving, always triumph or downfall. Lembit Opik spoke warmly of the support he had from Mr Kennedy during his own travails and loss of his seat five years ago, describing his former party leader as a rock. He also ascribed Mr Kennedy's alcohol problem to "too much empathy"- someone so empathetic that he tended to take the cares of the world on his shoulders.

When Mr Kennedy fell, who was his rock? We have no support system for those who fall victim to the cruel lottery of democracy. Colleagues are speaking openly of the concerns they felt for him after the election loss, were they there for him and where was the support system?

But in mourning this loss, let us not fail to celebrate achievement. In his day he was the youngest MP of modern times, just 23 when he won his seat for the Social Democrats. He went on to be "chat-show Charlie", the most formidable populist of his era, and led the Liberal Democrats to winning 62 seats in 2005.

Many spoke yesterday of his opposition to the Iraq War as his finest hour, and that was true, not because of his populism, but because of how calibrated and nuanced a politician he could be. He zeroed in on the likely outcome and his judgment was spot on.

He was also an instinctive pro-European whose voice will be sorely missed in the forthcoming referendum, a point well made by the First Minister yesterday.

But Charles Kennedy will be remembered as much for his weaknesses as for his strengths. The hugely intellectual boy debater of Glasgow University, which he later served twice as rector, was simply too fond of the camaraderie of the bar room or the solitary temptation of the whisky bottle. When he resigned the Liberal Democrat leadership in 2006 he was brave enough to mention alcoholism, and yet that never sparked the debate we should have had about drink and the hidden pressures of public life.

So let us remember Charlie Kennedy fondly and think on the tough, unforgiving business of politics.