By now, you may have heard, thanks to an overeager press, that a volunteer here in Benin has died. (If you knew her, you’ll know her name. If you happened upon a news story, you’ll know the circumstances of her death. I’ll let the press do the reporting.)

That volunteer was our friend.

It seems odd that words came easily for an elegiac to our dog Hugo yet not for our friend. It’d be easy to say the same trite things everyone says – trite even to note how trite familiar expressions of grief, of mourning are. It’d be easy, too, to beatify her: we tend to do that when friends die.

The truth is, though, that all those trite things one says about a loved one are true and must be said. Our friend was the best. The person everyone could count on. Dedicated. Well-integrated. Smart. Caring. A fantastic hostess. “Momma bear.” Loving. Loved. A saint.

Peace Corps Volunteers can be a cynical, pessimistic bunch. We see and experience a lot of things that make us angry – righteously or not – or sad. But, anyone who got a hug from her was reminded why we’re here. She was the positive light at times when you were feeling down about Benin or Peace Corps or life generally. And, she was a blast to hang out with, even if it was just reading poetry from the Norton anthology at two in the morning.

One could write a thousand words and still they wouldn’t be enough or even apt. We can only hope that our small dedications – on blogs, on Facebook, in letters and cards sent to her family – will somehow help ease the loss we and everyone who loved her felt. And, we can only pray that her soul rests in that Love which was so evident in her.