I went to a "celebration of life" for someone I grew up with this weekend. I wasn't terribly close with them, but I was close to their friend groups in the past.
It was a really nice event -- even those grieving the hardest put on a smile and had fun in honour of the deceased. Though they died far too young and I knew them only in highschool, it was warming to see how much they had flourished into adulthood and hear how they had become such an important figure in so many circles.
This person had been wise even in their youth. One of the few memories I recall of them is as a teenager, perhaps of 14 or 15, when I found out that they "didn't like" me. At the time this was a shock -- as a confident teenager I was convinced I was loved by all; if you've ever seen the cartoon "Recess", imagine the episode where TJ finds out there's one student who doesn't like him and his distress about it.
Full of myself I eventually confronted them and demanded to know their reasoning. "You think you're better than everyone, and you're not" was their answer, calm and clear and naked truth that I've recalled multiple times in my life even before their death. At 14 they were grounded and wise as an owl. From the stories I heard, they never lost that. (We did reconcile our differences at some point and got along very well in our remaining highschool years!)
In East of Eden, the author stated that the measure of a person's life is how people react to their death; if you die and nobody's happy about it,
you probably lived a decent life. If people are sad, it was probably a great one.
While the celebration was filled with laughter and smiles to honour the dead, everyone was sad -- even those of us who weren't close.
A fantastic life, then.