It's hard to sum up my feelings for my Grandmother in just a few choice words, so I'll do my best to explain what she meant to me by sharing a glimpse of the moments we shared.

I remember most fondly the times we spent playing cribbage together. She and my father taught me the game when i was a boy, and I played it with her too many times to count. She won most of the games, but I had my moments of victory, as well. Neither she nor I ever got that elusive "Perfect 29" hand that we sought out every time we played.

Though we never achieved it in cribbage, I like to think that my Grandmother got a "Perfect 29" hand in her life. She was a loving, generous, honorable woman who touched the lives of everyone she knew. Sure, she was dealt some bad hands from time to time, but that never stopped her from playing again until she succeeded.

I don't know if I'll even come close to attaining that perfect 29 hand of life, but if I always try to act with the same strength and honor, and follow my heart as my Grandmother had, I'll know I've made her proud.

Keep your Cribbage board handy, Grandma. We'll play again someday.

* * * * *