Samantha's eulogy

I have been fortunate enough to have my Grandfather as a constant presence in my life. He is the type of person who leaves an imprint in the lives of everyone he knows.

In recent years, every time I saw him we had a little routine that we had fallen into. I would kiss him and say “Hi Grandpa” and his response would always be a look of shock that I had kissed him, a look that he made jokingly as if to say, “Who, me?” and an enthusiastic “Thank you!” Then he would take a moment where he would give me a look which I now look back on and realize was filled with so much love, and he would say, “How did I get such a beautiful granddaughter?” Or he would put a hand on my face and say, “So cute,” in a way that made me feel like he couldn’t contain himself.

On his last day, I was visiting him in with the knowledge that it might be one of the last times I got to see him. I’m sure the expression on my face gave me away, as he always had a good sense of people and what they were thinking. I leaned over his bed and gave him the kiss that I made sure never to miss when seeing him, and he gave me that same look of sweet adoration and thanked me with the same amount of enthusiasm as always. Then he looked me dead in the eye and said, “So beautiful…” I responded, “So are you!” to which he replied, “I know.” I knew even before I had lost him that these interactions were special. They were so genuine and so loving that I couldn’t help but feel like every private moment spent with him was exceptional. He always made sure that those he loved knew how he felt; and although a lot of his time was spent quietly sitting amongst the boisterous women of our family, when he would finally speak, he would say something perfect. Either something with perfect comedic timing, or something so passionate and informed that people had to take notice. He had the unique ability, which I hope to mirror in my own life, to keep everyone entertained and also to get a point across.

I will miss watching him enjoy his candy in his sweet childlike way, and I will miss having someone else who appreciates meatloaf and mashed potatoes as much as I do. He and I decided long ago that we could both live on this diet forever.

At Thanksgiving, I will be lost without him taste-testing my cranberry sauce. He used to take tiny little bites from his spoon and then get a very serious look on his face, as though the amount of sugar added to the pot was the most important decision of his life. Every year he would tell me that this year’s sauce was the best yet.

His ketchup in his chicken soup and his love of hot dogs and beans were only part of his lifelong quirkiness when it came to food. Even his last meal was incidentally a cream cheese and jelly sandwich with a Fig Newton and an Oreo, which I am told he thought was the best snack my grandmother could have prepared.

I will remember him as brilliant, because I always felt he knew everything. Growing up, I recall him being known as the human encyclopedia. I will cherish the ideologies he instilled in my mother and then in me to always consider every living creature and never to waste. But mostly I will remember his capacity to love and appreciate everyone around him. I have known very few people who have had the ability to make me feel as special and uniquely loved as he did, and I will miss him more than I can ever express. I’m sure that I’ll have a hard time finding someone to lick the cooking spatula that will appreciate it and deserve it as much as him.