Grandmother helped me realize we are meant to be carriers of light, not bearers of darkness. Who mourned Lebanon and innocence the smell of thyme and sesame slow roasting in the oven. The smile on my face before communion wafers and wine reminiscent of her last supper in Upper Galilee where figs were sticky when ripe and fish was blackened on both sides and she ate the eyes first. She sold her gold wedding ring to pay back debtors during the Great Depression. Grandfather laid car parts for Oldsmobile in Lansing to feed his family. He dreamed of Greater Syria and the streets of Aleppo where he gave milk to strangers under full moonlight.