My Tribute at My Cousin Andrew Sam's Funeral (January 15, 2009)

My cousin Andrew was an original—no small feat in a family of 10 children, 27 grandchildren, and 21 great-grandchildren. And though each of us is unique—otherwise known as “a character,” Andrew stood out in a number of ways.

I often referred to him as our family genius, because no one was as adept at numbers, percentages, and stats like Andrew was—especially when it came to sports. Name the sport, and Andrew could tell you about its movers and shakers as well as its underdogs. He was a one-man ESPN. I always thought it was a shame that he never had the opportunity to work in the sports field—that he managed to escape their notice—but being an undiscovered gem was Andrew’s fate. Those of us who knew him knew how bright he was and how rapturous that brilliance was to behold. We shone because of him.

Andrew also managed to hold his own in a house of three Forbes matriarchs. He was the man of the house—not because he was the only man in the house—but because of the seriousness with which he took the duties of father, protector, handyman, grandson, nephew, brother, and son. My father may have taken the reins from his father, but Andrew took the reins from him and watched over his grandmother, Aunt Pauline, sisters Paulette, Sonia, and Christine—and last, but really first and foremost, his mother.

It was his masculine energy that balanced, grounded, and held the household together. His grandmother knew she was in good hands with him around, as did his Aunt Pauline. His sisters knew they were in good hands with the bratty brother who grew into a protective brother, surrogate father, and trusted friend. And his mother knew she was in good hands with the one man who did what the men before him failed to do: never let her down.

If I have a regret, it’s that I failed to take the time to deepen the bond between us. We talked during my visits to the house, my calls to find out how grandmother was doing, whether it was a good time to visit, or the zip code I often forgot, but there never seemed to be enough time. My trips to 27 Veronica Place were focused on maximizing the quality time with the woman of our shared adoration—our grandmother—and he knew and respected that. He also knew I loved him, and I know that I was loved by him. Still, that kind of love is addictive and makes me wish I’d had more of it.

But love was one of Andrew’s many gifts, and perhaps his greatest. He gave it, truly, generously, and unconditionally. Those of us blessed enough to have received it understand the profundity of Saturday’s loss. We also know the importance of today’s sendoff; the body is being laid to rest, but the spirit lives on. And though I miss and will miss Andrew for the rest of my life, I am trying to think of this less as my/our loss and more as his cousin Camille’s gain. Like her grandmother, aunts, and cousins before her, she knows she’s in good hands--as does he.