Markos Kounalakis
"Koumbaro" is an empowered role in the Greek Orthodox church - it is the role I cherish most as it divinely entwined me to Kukula and Paul, first in the engagement ceremony and, then, as the wedding proceeded and exchanged crowns sealed the deal. Awe struck me as I stood at the altar, holding my candle, watching Kuku bring brighter light and greater lightness into Paul's heart.

Kukula shared her luminous self to all who knew her. She possessed this mood-brightening, load-lightening, love-awakening quality in abundance and she shared it unselfishly.

On her wedding day, I was moved and honored to bear witness to its mysterious transference from wife to renewed husband and back. My Koumbaro role kept me standing closely, feeling the power of Paul and Kuku's sacred union and the strength of their loving and respectful relationship. The light of Paul's life. Our memories will make sure to keep this light alive, but our lives without Kuku's living, loving power impoverishes us all.
Amy Stackhouse
There is, perhaps, no way of saying something original about Kukula Glastris that has not been said a hundred times, in a hundred ways, over the past few days and weeks, by everyone who loved her.

We’ve all remarked on how kind she was—the kindest person, in fact, that I’ve ever known. As Jim Fallows wrote so elegantly in his tribute in the Atlantic, it’s easy to use superlatives—the kindest person, the most generous person, the altogether best person; it’s less common that these words are actually true. She was many things, our beloved Kuku—wife and mother, surrogate mother and friend, editor and colleague. That she did all of these jobs with so much generosity and compassion, so much unconditional love, so much unrelenting kindess, was always a miracle, and always a gift.

When I first started at the Washington Monthly, eleven years ago this fall, my husband and our then-thirteen-year-old only child, Molly, came to DC to visit, and Paul and Kuku invited us over for dinner (of course!). Hope and Adam were there, and downstairs in the basement with friends. Hope gathered Molly up, and took her down with her—in that spirit of generosity that defines the Glastris Way of Life. We were just embarking on the bumpy ride that is shepherding a child through high school, and Dave and I left saying, These are the kinds of parents we want to be. I said, What a wonderful gift—watching Kuku mother. That is—watching her mother not just Hope and Adam, but everyone in the house. The teenagers, certainly, but also Molly, and us as well.

We were not allowed, it goes without saying, to do the dishes after.

I’d like to think we were okay apprentices in the art of raising multiple teenagers, making a home that’s welcoming and offering food and support and safety and love and a place of joy and laughter. They’ve all left the nest now, but they come back, just like Kuku’s extended family of children all came back—like they’ll still, even in her physical absence, come back. In their tributes to her they use the superlatives we’re all using, and anyone who knew Kuku knows just how they feel.

Oh, how much I’ll miss you, Kukula Glastris!
Mimi Veis
I needed a babysitter one day but instead got a second mother for my daughter, Mira. Kuku and Paul even watched her for 2 weeks while Bryan and I went on our honeymoon. Kuku insisted on throwing me a bridal shower when I mentioned I wasn't having one because the entire wedding party lived out of state. It was Kuku who took care of Mira when she had a meltdown during the wedding ceremony. When Kuku and Paul moved to Chicago, we'd always make sure we visited when we were in town. Sadly, as usually happens, we didn't see each other as much when they moved back to D.C. You always think you'll have more time. But when we did see each other, Kuku and Paul were always the same loving people. Our hearts go out to Paul, Hope, and Adam
Alice Buzanis
Kukula was one of my dearest and sweetest friends. Although I haven't seen her for quite sometime she has always been in my thoughts and in my heart. I met Kukula years ago. Kukula was the most loving and giving individuals I ever met. Her heart was always big and her love for her family and friends was always selfless. The beautiful person she was shines in the beautiful children she raised and the wonderful husband she left behind. I will miss her and send her family my deepest condolences and ❤️ love during this difficult time.
Timothy Noah
In moments like these I sometimes listen to Kurt Weill's "Lost in the Stars," a heartbreaking song from Weill's musical adaptation of "Cry, the Beloved Country." This instrumental version, from 1985, is my favorite. https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=3B8cvPK3FG0
Greg Garcia
It is just too difficult to accept that such a warm and generous soul could be taken from Paul and all of us so prematurely. Our memories of the many delightful and festive times with her will remain forever vibrant and we will miss her. For everyone she touched she left behind a Kuku-brand smile and hug.