A piece of life's recent puzzles

For Shawn & his Desirée

She danced into heaven
on a Sunday
only seventeen
She was your best friend,
your love.
"My future," you said
and my heart nearly broke.
Odd how we always look
for a reason
a purpose
I wish I could give you one.
Years ago, when I lost a love,
I searched in vain for the whys
and ended up none the wiser,
unless you count
a depressed resignment
to random, horrible coincidences
as wisdom.
The last photos taken of her
were in church that morning.
She looked uncomfortable there.
I understood.