Matthew Burnette, Staff Writer

The beginning of December always brings a mixed bag of emotions.

On one hand, there’s the joy of the impending holiday and all of the fun activities that go along with it. The Christmas songs, the movies and the sense of warmth despite the falling temperatures.

On the other hand, Dec. 2 marks another birthday that we don’t get to celebrate with our most beloved family member who’s passed on. The matriarch of our family. Our Nan.

She’s remains a fixture in my mind throughout the year, but I especially think about her a lot in December, not just because of her birthday, but because the holiday season always brings up a fond memory that she just happens to be at the center of.

It was early Christmas afternoon.

I sat on a loveseat as various family members scattered around handing out gifts, a job which, as a fresh-faced fourteen-year-old, wasn’t yet delegated to me, when suddenly, amid the holiday hoopla, a rectangular package fell into my lap.

The tag read:

“To: Matt, From: Nan and Pop”

Nan and Pop were my maternal great-grandparents, and for most of my childhood, their house was the epicenter for all family gatherings.

Between the boisterous personalities and Sam the parrot’s squawking, their quaint remodeled mobile home was always lively when you packed 20 or so of my closest relatives inside.

Hence the aforementioned holiday hoopla.

While investigating the packaged parallelogram previously plopped on my lap, I came to the conclusion that within the wrapping was a VHS tape.

There were so many shows and movies I enjoyed, and although I was well past the age of mindlessly shredding through any gift handed to me with unbridled excitement, getting things was very much a thing I liked, so how could this possibly go wrong?

I tore through the paper with polite sophistication until its contents were fully exposed.

There before me laid a bright red, cellophane-wrapped case containing a copy of “Power Rangers Dino Thunder: Legacy of Power, Volume 2.”

Now, at one point in my life, “Power Rangers” was my thing.

There was multiple day stretch where I watched “Mighty Morphin Power Rangers: The Movie” at least once daily.

Unfortunately, that was roughly a decade before the Christmas in question, and I hadn’t thought “Hey! That Power Rangers thing looks like something I’d like” in quite some time.

I looked up to see if anyone else had seen what I received, hoping that maybe there had been a mistake, but before the situation could be processed any further, I heard it.

Somehow through all the noise, the all too familiar sound of Nan’s slippers shuffling across the floor entered my ear canal, and I fell into a slight panic.

I wouldn’t tell my least favorite person that I didn’t like a gift they gave me, let alone the sweetest, most caring person I’ve ever had the fortune of knowing.

I took a deep breath and composed myself, and as soon as I did, there stood Nan.

With what seemed like a bit of concern, she looked at me and asked in her sweet yet gravelly voice, “Is that okay?”

Without even getting a chance to think about an answer, my mouth let out what can only be described as a mid-pubescent howl that sounded vaguely similar to the words “Yeah, it’s great.”

Then she smiled in the way she always did where the tops of her cheeks crested over the very bottom of her eyes and walked away as the festivities continued.

Upon arriving home later that day, I put my new and reluctantly obtained copy of “Power Rangers Dino Thunder: Legacy of Power, Volume 2” on a shelf.

To this day, it’s never been watched.

At some point the cellophane gave away and there may be a tiny bit of dust on the cover, but other than that, it’s exactly as it was the day I received it.

It makes me think of Nan, though, and her smile and how, although the movie may not have been a thing I wanted, she cared, and the fact she was actually worried about whether or not I would like it tells you everything you need to know about who she was.

She wanted, more than anything, for her family to be happy and to be together.

That was the last Christmas we got to spend with her.

After she passed away, the majority of my time thinking about her was filled with sadness and regret.

She lived a short walk from me for most of my childhood, yet I didn’t spend anywhere near as much time with her as I wish had.

On that last Christmas as we were getting ready to leave, she made me and my brother give her a hug before we left.

I did so begrudgingly, not as a reaction to the gift but because I was a teenager and how dare someone ask for the smallest bit of affection. And now, there’s nothing I’d like more than to be able to hug her or to even just be in her presence one more time.

When I look at that VHS sitting on the shelf, the warmth of that now incredibly cherished memory overcomes me.

I’ll probably never watch “Power Rangers Dino Thunder: Legacy of Power, Volume 2;” at this point, I don’t want my cynical adult brain to lessen the sentimentality.

I’m never getting rid of it, though.

It’s one of my favorite Christmas gifts.

It’s a daily reminder of the importance of connection both to memories and to those we hold dear.

It makes me smile when the world is rough.

Mostly, though, it keeps me close to an incredibly special person who I wish I’d have gotten more time with, but who I’m incredibly grateful and blessed to have gotten to know.

Happy Heavenly Birthday, Nan!