"Did you say hello to your Auntie Helen today?" I got this question quite often when I was young. It was always asked by my Aunt Helen, usually on a Sunday afternoon in Bayside, Queens. Of course I didn't say hello to my Auntie Helen, simply because I could not find her. From zipping in and out of rooms at record speed, hurriedly stirring a big pot of gravy, scrubbing every crevice of the bathroom floor, and tending to her dear nephew, Chris -- my Aunt Helen managed to occupy every room of the house at the same time. Suffice it to say, it was hard to locate Helen, let alone say hello. Astonishingly, it did not matter how busy my Auntie Helen was -- she, without fail, found time to make me feel special. From slipping me noshies before dinner (sorry, cousins!), to giving me earnest, thoughtful advice about all of my absolutely CATACLYSMIC problems as an eight year-old, she made me know that I was important. How she did it, I will never know. I do know that in my own life, I hope to emulate her in so many ways. And while I am sad that she is gone, I feel that it would be selfish for me to miss her too much. Finally, she can rest. Finally, she will get her hair and nails done just right. Finally, she will put up her legs on the brown ottoman, relax, and watch Chris frantically run around the kitchen preparing the ziti and meatballs for dinner. - Claudia