49

 Kelly would have been 49 today. She would have been brilliant at being 49. She would have aced it. She'd have been fantastic at all the ages she missed out on. Kelly at 37? Outstanding. 43? Superlative. 48 and five months? None better in the business of being alive. 

Every year she'd get better and better: funnier, more complicated, more grounded, wiser, sillier, warmer, kinder, more generous, and from a starting position of being all of those things already. She was great and she showed no signs of slacking off. She was an amazing human being till the moment she stopped being. 

She'd hate the world though. She'd hate the hateful stuff that's going down. The ugliness, the greed and myopia of modern politics. The wars, the butchering of children, the sabre rattling, the cowardice of the States and the UK. The hopelessness. The effrontery. The naked, savage lies. The corruption, corruption in its literal sense, eating, corroding, tainting, devouring. She'd hate all of this shit. 

But she'd rise above it. She was indomitable. She had a vital spark. If she were alive today, she'd still be brilliant. She shone.