all scrabbled up

I planned almost every detail and cooked most of the dishes for my family's Christmas this year. During dinner, my Grandpa gave me the best compliment and thank you he could ever give. He said, "Jenna, you did wonderfully. Your grandmother would have been proud. I wish she was here to enjoy it." I couldn't say anything back for a minute or two. I knew I would start crying if I did. I wish she were here too, but I realized something else tonight worth more than her presence.

The day my Grandmother died a neighbor was on her way to surprise her with a game of Scrabble. She had brought a present for my Grandma that day: a Deluxe Edition Scrabble Turntable. The game was never opened by my Grandmother, however, the neighbor lovingly gave the gift to us. The game has remained unopened in our hall closet since then.

Every time I walked in to get a coat, I always wondered if we would ever open it. It was a bittersweet idea. My Grandmother loved Scrabble, which rooted from her love for words. She read 5-6 novels a week, finished multitudes of crosswords, read the dictionary for fun and had the largest vocabulary of anyone I know. When she played scrabble, she was in her element. I know she would have marveled at the idea of a Scrabble turn table. I can picture her hand clasping over her mouth at the loveliness of someone thinking to make such a thing.

Opening that package also presented a bitter idea though, the idea that she really wouldn't be able to tear the wrapping off of the box. She would never be able to marvel at the table and enjoy it.

Tonight I wasn't sure if I really wanted to be doing what I was doing, but I took a knife and slit it through the saran wrapping. I took a look at the front and opened the box. My cousin, Mom, Uncle and I sat at the kitchen table playing Scrabble. It was bittersweet, but it was the most appropriate time to open the box.

This was my first Christmas without the intelligent woman I knew as Grandma and I missed her. I missed her laugh, smile, lips covered in chocolate, curly hair, and even her stubborness. Having a little bit of her through that deluxe edition of Scrabble made me smile because I appreciated playing the game as much she would have and I knew she would have loved playing with us this evening.

Doing something she loves and loving it makes me know she is still here in me. I will always love her and know her love for me lives on in my life through the impact she had on me and the love she always generously gave to me.

Merry Christmas.