Before I flew home to New York for the holidays, I organized a festive dinner for those near and dear. We laughed over old jokes, shared new revelations, and enjoyed our last revelry of the year. There was Christmas magic in the air, lifting our spirits and reminding us to count our blessings. Of course, it also gave me a chance to buy a new dress and coax the men (successfully) into suits.

The last afternoon of the year found me sitting on my grandparents’ front porch wrapped in a warm cocoon of blankets and contemplating the last 365 days. The holidays, parties, work, friends, flings, men, all deserved honest reflection. I remembered a conversation with one of Scott’s best friends just the other day and my answer to his question regarding my continued singlehood. I said I may be too different a person now to be able to love like that again. Have I really changed over the years? Or will I never find another person to love because I’m still in love with Scott?

Probably noticing how pensive I looked, my grandmother came out with two mugs of hot chocolate and joined me for a little chat. My grandmother is the wisest person I know and being her little girl, I was relieved that I could finally open my heart and pour everything out. And everything was about him. Scott. How we met when he rescued me from some creep that was following me around the club; how he didn’t mind waking up in the middle of the night to cook me noodles; how he wanted a ride in our seaplane on his first visit to New York; how he patiently explained nuclear physics to me (even though I still don’t get it); how I could always be myself around him.My grandmother was smiling as I was recounting my memories, but realized I was getting quieter and more sober with each word. Eventually, I would get to the part about the car accident, how he was no longer by my side, and every anecdote was just a bitter-sweet memory. Then I told her about my wish to find The One.

A good friend once told me after Scott’s funeral that if a person was meant for me, he would be here holding my hand, so there must then be another One for me. But over the years, I’ve met and lost people, and each time I’ve cried over the unfairness of it all. I turned to my grandmother and asked: if Scott wasn’t The One, then where is that person? How can I find true love again? I didn’t have an answer and my grandmother didn’t respond. I suppose she knew I wasn’t ready to hear her answer.

Tonight, I sat with my family for dinner at the dining table which never failed to gather the people I love most in the world. Another table, another dinner, but the love which was present at my Christmas dinner with friends was present at this table too. And as I gently traced each face so dear to me, my grandmother slipped her hand into mine. With a squeeze of her hand, she conveyed how precious I was to her. And gave me her answer to my question.

I started my year with a journey to find The One and experience true love again, but maybe all I needed to do was look around and realize that with or without The One, true love has never been far away.

Image courtesy of Daydream Nation