When I took it upon myself to compose this eulogy in honor of my grandmother, I originally thought that even given the circumstances, it was going to be an easy piece to write. However, I’ve spent hours waiting for just a drop of water to flow from the creative fountain of my mind--and I am surprised by the drought I am experiencing. Traditionally, eulogies are comprised of memories of our loved ones and the expressing of our sorrow of their loss. I intend to do those things as well; but I also wish to convey a cautionary tale. I believe that there is a difference between consciousness and cognition. In other words: being awake and being truly aware. The world is inhabited by many who wander it in a daze. They may be conscious of the things around them, but very rarely are they ever cognizant. They never truly comprehend the value of someone or something until it is no longer with them. The sentiment behind the old adage: “You don’t know what you got until it’s gone” should’ve been one of the many things that was fastened on the conscience of all who walk the earth. Embarrassingly, I may be considered one of those unfortunate souls who wasn’t present for the fitting. I truly wish I could regale you with tales of my grandmother; people she’s met, places she’s seen--but I am unable. I wish knew more of her life; before and after she met my grandfather and created the family that would one day produce me. I wish I could’ve sat at her feet and asked her all the question I have that may now go forever unanswered. “I wish--I wish-- I wish….” However, there is no genie dwelling in some unknown lamp somewhere that will grant me these three wishes. I have to live with the fact that missed the privileged of getting to know someone I truly do love very much. I don’t have many memories of my grandmother and I feel a great sense of shame in that. However, I will always cherish one profound memory of her; it’s from the last time I saw her. I remember getting off the elevator on the fourth floor of the nursing home and turning right to where her room was located. I remember seeing her sitting in her chair; she just finished having lunch. I walked into the room and she looked up at me and reached out her hand. I reached back and she took my finger into her hand with a grip that surprised me. It was a grip that suggested she would not--possibly, could not let go until she had told me something important. Our eyes met and we looked at each other for a long time. Then, her eyes lit up and she flashed me a big, bright smile which I warmly returned. I’d like to think that it was her way of telling me that no matter what, she loves me and will always love me. That even though we didn’t spend the time together in the past that we’ve should’ve, we had the time we spent now. It may have been a simple gesture, but it was a profound one... I love you, grandma. I always have and I always will. I’ll never forget you and I’m going to honor your memory the best I can. I’m going to try my best to make you proud of me--as a person--and as a Kwaak. Rest in peace, grandma. With great affection, your loving grandson, Johnathan.