I sat below the large tree in the middle of the cemetery and scribbled on a small piece of paper upon my lap...
"A piece of my legacy and future died today. A part of my identity is forever lost without me even knowing most of the story. See we are all mere blades of grass in a field. One piece next to the other. If you lay and examine one little strand filed within an everlasting horizon of green, you could not even begin to comprehend the significance of how far they've added to and how their existence continues a journey, a road. But that one little blade adds distance, however small it may be, and millions together add to travel miles and miles, one getting just a little bit farther then the rest. See we all matter, even if we perhaps do not attest to our significance. We further our family, our legacy, our identity, our story, just by being alive. My grandmother, Klara died in Hungary last night. I did not grow up seeing her regularly, but I do remember her and love her very much. She was someone who continued the journey and allowed me to take on the challenges of this life, that I too may be a blade of grass that adds to a beautiful field. She may only have been a blade as well, but she was one that propelled the future and gave me the most precious gift, life. "
In loving Memory of Klara Boros
September 12, 1925-May 22, 2009