It seems like by now, the frailty and fragility of human life should be a cliche, but it's not. It is discussed commonly enough, yes, but it is not commonplace.

Today I went to a funeral for a 20-year-old girl, B, who was recently killed in a car accident. I was just getting to know her; I was mostly friends with her older sister, and felt like maybe I didn't have a place there, mourning with the people who'd loved her best. But the longer I was there, the more I was glad (which feels like the wrong word to use) I was there to be part of a memorial to a beautiful life.

The 402 of us there filled the Hall and spilled out into the parking lot. Chairs had been set up, with speakers, so those of us outside could hear the service. It was the most positive memorial talk I've ever heard, focusing on the future. The part I appreciated most was that while it did talk about what our hope means for all of us, it focused on what it meant for her.

The brother giving the talk mentioned that once meeting B, you wouldn't forget her. Maybe some of the people there had only met her once.

It's not to say she was perfect. She had her faults, like the rest of us. But he was right; nobody forgets B.

She also had a younger sister, and the three of them are three of the most vivacious people I have ever met in my life. Their laughter is bright and ready and contagious.

After I got the news on Thursday, I worried for my dear friend, the older sister. I worried that she might loose some of that spark, and I ached for her and for her family. It is a loss of unimaginable pain. But when I saw them today, strained and strong with smiles for the crowd, I knew the girls would be ok. It will hurt, for a very long time, and until they see her again, she will always be missed. But today, some of their laughter was genuine, as we all shared stories. There were collections of photographs, lovingly arranged. One of them listed different things she was known for. "Infection giggle", "Having to primp even just to go get a gallon of milk", and "Her ability to love."

I spent much of today with a friend I rarely see. I wasn't in a chatty mood, but this friend talks enough for the both of us. I felt vaguely guilty to be laughing at her outrageous stories, but it really was a celebration of B's life, and B wouldn't have wanted a somber rememberance. In fact, one of my friends told me she kept almost looking for B, because surely B wouldn't miss something this big.

Afterwards, a friend told me she took photos of the memorial and reception to show B when we see her again. I have the feeling she'll like that.

"For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor governments, nor things now here, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creation, will be able to separate us from God's love that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."
--Romans 8:38,39