My favorite Christmas present

This year was one of the best Christmases I've ever experience. My nephew, Beau (Bo-bo) arrived on the 23rd and Mom and I toasted his birth day with a shot of Sake (the only liquor I could find at 1:30 a.m.). We got to spend time with all of the parents/grandparents and relax without driving so many hours.

While that was wonderful, I got a present I couldn't have even fathomed to request, my grandmother's writing.
Back story: 
I never knew my Dad's mother, for whom I'm named. She died before my parents were married and not until last year did I even know what she looked like. I've never been able to find out too much information about her from anyone. I know she was an artist. They had her paintings hanging up in Grandpa's house and Dad pointed them out to me from time to time. She loved classical music: Grandpa showed me her collection of records, Rachmaninof, Tchaikovsky, Bach in a box in the shed too damaged by the weather to be salvaged. I know she lost a daughter, Susan, either at birth or shortly thereafter who would have been between my dad and uncle in age. I found that out from my "Grandma Jo" who really isn't my grandmother, our family just adopted her as such and that's the only title she's had.
I don't know her birthday, I don't know when or how she died. My information about her ended there...until this Christmas.

When I got to my dad's house for our Christmas dinner, I found a book and a card for me. Inside was a note from my cousin, Jasmine. It read:

Dear Cousin,

I hope you enjoy this book of our grandmother's poetry! 

Please have Uncle Bob explain.

Much love, 

Jasmine

I can't even begin to count how many times I've read this note. The first sentence echoing in my mind and my heart, "our grandmother's poetry." Wow. She wrote poetry. Not only that, but the book that went with the card contains scanned copies of her writing. I now know what her handwriting looks like. She had good penmanship.

Turns out, the gentleman that bought my grandfather's house found a box under the house on Mother's Day this year and brought it over to my uncle's house. Jasmine found it and, realizing the importance it would have to the rest of us, started scanning pages. There are 28 journals, approximately 1200 pages of her writing. Some of it is original poetry; some are poems she enjoyed. There are a few dated 1942 and addressed to "a child in Europe." Either way, it's a piece of her I would have never, ever had access to or even known existed without my fabulous cousin. 

It was equally as surprising to my dad, who I don't think knew of the journals' existence. Jas included one special poem in his collection, a poem my grandmother most likely wrote about him. It is about giving him a bath and makes it sound like he was a toddler when she wrote it. Watching his face as we talked about this amazing gift, I could see his sweet heart swell. Face sullen, looking down, he was more than humble; he was grateful. So Jas, if you read this, please know you gave me and my dad a gift that was more than priceless. You introduced me to another part of our grandmother and you gave my dad back his mom. Even if it's only her words, it's her words so many years after she left. 

That, my friends, was my favorite Christmas present and one I'll always treasure.