Game of Life

My grandmother was the first person who taught me how to play games. We played quite a few games, but Rummikub was one of our favorites. My loving and considerate grandmother would turn into this game warrior who always played to win. She refused to show me any mercy, acquiring sets of tiles until I watched her empty her tray with a victory. Despite being her grandson, grandma showed me no mercy. I remember the pain I felt from losing, but I remained eager to play and determined to win. Eventually, we left the Rummikub tiles behind and graduated to Scrabble. Every time we played, I would carefully watch grandmother’s moves while contemplating my next maneuver. Over the years, she continued to beat me in both games, but the contests became more competitive and I slowly became a challenge for her. At the age of 13, I won a game, Rummikub, a game at which she claimed to be unbeatable. I felt proud.

These games taught me more than the obvious skills. I learned how to lose, and win with grace. I learned to enjoy the process, regardless of the losses. I learned how to take cues from other people and to think on my own. I learned how to cope with failure and learn from the loss. I learned that true victory stems from hard work and persistence. And I learned that the strongest and most meaningful relationships are based on honesty.

This doesn’t mean that those losses don’t burn. I have had many losses in my life. I was devastated when my baseball team lost the championship game by only one run. But I was still incredibly proud of my team’s efforts, the work we put into the season, and my own contribution on the mound. Playing games with grandma taught me that I should not focus on the loss. Instead, I focused on what I was going to improve in the next season.

Last year, grandma was diagnosed with congestive heart failure. In her 82 years, grandma had seen many hospital visits due to her diabetes, strokes and broken hip. Watching grandma enter another hospital did not concern me. I knew she would battle through this diagnosis as she did all of her other health matters. Every time she entered a hospital she showed what it really meant to fight to win. Winners work hard, remain focused, are respectful of the process and take constructive criticism well, all in pursuit of an important goal. Watching grandma, I learned to understand that sometimes a game may not end, but it changes, causing goals to shift that may require a different method.

The shift for my grandmother’s game was to make it through the present ailment. Unfortunately, grandma lost this last round. I cherish the games I played with her, even the games I lost. Near the end, the matches were more balanced and I could see all I had gained from the years of competing. Winning was no longer my goal, and I will cherish the lessons I learned by spending the time with my grandmother.