Scrabble

I've been enjoying a bit of Scrabble online recently, which has been bringing my mother to mind.

Mum died of breast cancer last October. Scrabble was our thing; we played together as far back as I remember, which must mean she suffered coaching a young child through the game. We had a difficult relationship at times, but when things became a bit awkward the Scrabble board would make it all rosy again. At times it seemed to be one of the few things we had in common.

She was a good player. We were fairly evenly matched — even enough to keep it interesting — but she won more often than not. When we packed up her modest belongings I pulled out the note pad tucked into the Scrabble box, and found records of our more recent games. I'll probably never have another person to sit and play with in the same way.

She knew the most obscure words imaginable. When I'd ask her how on earth she knew such a word, she'd always reply, "Oh, I don't know. Must have read it somewhere." And she was a prodigious reader. She instilled a love of words, books and reading in both my sister and I, and it's utterly central to both our lives. It's something I really have to thank Mum for. I never did of course. She died so swiftly.

I wrote a eulogy for her funeral, and people seemed to think it was a good one. My sister said that she wished I could write one for her now, so that she could have the chance to read it while she was still alive. We never do thank people for what they give us, do we? Perhaps I should get cracking and write eulogies for the important people in my life before they die, so I don't miss out again.