What Matt said. Kuku had a way of looking at people and actually seeing them, of listening and actually hearing. She asked questions, remembered details, followed up about confidences told to her months ago. And always, she looked into people's eyes, nodding, mouth slightly open, leaning onto a table, intent on understanding. If she was listening to a friend, she was never rushed. She exuded warmth.
I would add, too, that she had one of the most easy, joyful laughs I've ever had the pleasure of experiencing -- and she gave it away generously. I remember hearing her laughing down the hallway, in the kitchen, through the office walls. I remember, also, her outbursts of fury at the latest abomination on the news, of her yelling, incensed, at the TV. I will so miss that unique, Kuku Alchemy -- a lightheartedness combined with an uncompromising moral compass. Pure gold.
It's become something of a cliche to eulogize someone as "a light that has gone out," but Kuku, more than most, seems deserving of that metaphor. She was certainly a source of light for me, a light of joy and compassion and humility. She lived a generous life, fierce and loyal and good, and made the rest of us feel we could do that too.