I never imagined that at nineteen I would be sitting with three of my best friends, helping two of them write eulogies – for her boyfriend, for his best friend, for our close friend. I never imagined that together we would don black dresses, adjust the boys’ suit collars and walk together into a memorial service for our friend and his family. I never imagined that we would mix and mingle with high school friends, with a college rugby team, with our parents to the side – not necessarily needed – after a funeral. At nineteen we were planning for college graduations and weddings – fun, flirty dresses and dancing, maybe picking up some new single friends. Maybe even a few babies young – it would have been okay. I never thought there would be a funeral filled with young people absent of grey hairs. I could try to comprehend the lesson here, and yes there are positive lessons on the brevity of life, on appreciating the beautiful good people in your life and on trying to live each day as fully as possible. But in a slight attempt to hold onto my youth, the stubborn, selfish nineteen year old in me has learned this the most – life is undeniably and horribly unfair. Good people die young, our fates are rarely in our own hands and life sadly marches on and on. I suppose this is our life now. We have learned lessons of the old, acquired wisdom of the aged and lost a piece of our youth and a piece of our hearts.

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