Barbara's Requiem.

Last night I sang at the requiem mass for Barbara, a long-time member of the St. Thomas choir. I only met Barbara a few times, but singing at her funeral was a moving experience for me.

The church was full of people who loved Barbara. Our choir swelled from 19 members to well over 50 -- former and current St. Thomas singers, and singers from other choirs she had been with. We sang Gabriel Fauré's Requiem, one of Barbara's favorites. Choirmaster Jim was amazing, directing us with his facial expressions as much as with his hands -- shhh, pianissimo, now forte, forte! Float, remember your diction, and watch me for the cutoff! All this while emoting intensely with the music, yet remaining poised throughout, not shedding tears for his dear friend until the closing hymn.

Elizabeth sang a gorgeous Pie Jesu during the Gradual, filling the church with her beautiful straight tone. One of the altos turned to her and said, "I want you to sing that at my funeral." Elizabeth replied with tears in her eyes, "Don't talk about that!"

Barbara's daughter Charity delivered a beautifully-written eulogy -- a perfect blend of levity, sentimentality, and restrained sadness. Charity lives in Wales but took on the tough responsibility of being Barbara's primary caretaker, contact, and organizer these last few weeks. Yet, she has remained cool and positive throughout. I admire her strength.

I didn't know Barbara, but I learned a lot about her last night. It was clear that she had lived an amazing life, and brought joy to many people with her incredible singing talent and exuberant personality. She was strong, having been diagnosed with a rare form of cancer in 2004, and going into remission in 2007 before a liver metastasis finally took her at the age of 64.

It's always a sad occasion when someone passes away, but being surrounded by beautiful music and people exuding love for Barbara, even I, a stranger to Barbara, wept openly. I recall my father's funeral, where people spilled out of the chapel and into the hallway. Sometimes I believe that cancer only chooses awesome people to take away from us, but these are just the embittered thoughts of an ever-grieving daughter. In truth, death is highly random and can take any of us at any time. I can only hope that when I die, I can be as proud of the fullness of my life, and be remembered as fondly by those who loved me.