“It’s been six days since our five-year-old daughter Lenya died without warning. Six days since I snuggled her close. Six days since I heard the sound of her raspy voice.

The hundred-year-old theater is filled with row after row of people we love, but I don’t remember seeing anyone’s face. More occupy every inch of standing room. They gather with our family to celebrate the life of our little girl.

As musicians take the stage, the movement and whispers of the crowd dull. Guitars strum melodies honoring the Giver of life as the voices on stage blend with the crowd’s, creating a beautiful harmony. I hold my husband’s hand. The other I raise in worship, my heart riding the swells of awe and sadness, gratitude and loss.

As the music tapers, the moment comes for my husband, Levi, and I to walk on stage with our seven-year-old daughter. Levi briefly introduces Alivia, who opens her iPad and begins to share about her best friend and sister. Her words (which were well thought out, then written and then typed) prompt tears. Then it’s my turn…”

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