Lights in the Darkness, Silent Witness, and Fire & Water: Our Grandparents
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Hans Fries, Anna & Joachim (parents of Christian Holy Mary) at Kunstmuseum Basel Switzerland, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons
[Editor’s note: In 2021, Pope Francis established the celebration of the World Day for Grandparents and Elderly, which is the fourth Sunday of July. In 2025, we decided to do something special in preparation for that, and to honor our grandparents along the way.
We asked Adult Children of Divorce or Separation to help us create a series of collaborative blog posts, poems, and/or artwork which showcase the role their grandparents played in their lives, and how they have aided in the healing journey as children of divorce grow into adulthood. We want to ennoble them with the important role they play in their grandchildren's lives.
If you, too, would like to share a story about your grandparents, please reach out to us and we would love to help you honor your grandparents in that way.]
Lights in the Darkness by Claire Scott
My maternal grandparents were a huge source of help and security for my siblings and I when my parents initially separated before the divorce was final.
My parents sat us down and told us they were getting divorced a week after my high school graduation party. It came as a total surprise to all of us. A few days later, my mom packed my siblings and I up and drove us three hours south to spend the summer with our grandparents during those first raw weeks of processing and grieving.
My mom’s parents have always been a constant and loving presence in our lives and looking back now, their hospitality during that summer was such a gift. While being away meant that I had to give up my job and multiple nannying commitments, we also were able to have some distance from the situation among people who loved us.
I think it was good for my mom too because she had the support she needed to grieve and make sure us kids were taken care of. My grandpa has always been a man I looked up to and that summer was when I realized that if I ever found a man, I wanted one like him—smart, great sense of humor, strong, and kind. My grandma was my confirmation sponsor and her down to earth faith and active lifestyle have always been things I aspire to. I owe so much to my grandparents and I am so grateful that they are a part of our lives.
About a year before the divorce, my grandparents took my family and my aunt, uncle, and cousin on a trip to Alaska to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary. I did not think much of it at the time, but on that trip I often shared a hotel room with my grandparents. Before going to sleep, I would hear them whispering their bedtime prayers: praying for all their family and friends commending it all to Our Lady. At the time I thought it was sweet, but now I see that those small moments were the real work of marriage. Their marriage reminds me that my (very new!) marriage does not have to be like my parents’. It can be like theirs: my grandparents.
My Grandparents’ Silent Witness by Michael Monteleone
When my father left, I had just turned three, and, since I have no memory of my mom and dad being together, I grew up thinking it had no negative impact on me. I told myself that I had lost nothing and had a good life, so their divorce was a mere inconvenience during the holidays. It was not until forty-five years later that I came to understand that my parents’ failed marriage was a model for the trail of broken relationships in my life history.
I suppose that because I grew up thinking I was okay, I never gave my grandparents’ marriages much thought. It was not until God gave me the grace to see the impact my parents’ divorce had on my life that I began to reflect on my relationships with my grandparents and their marriages. In prayer, the Holy Spirit showed me that my childhood was overshadowed by a feeling of not being good enough for my parents, causing me to miss the fact that my grandparents always loved me as I was. I was reminded that my maternal grandparents never left me wanting for affection and I could do no wrong in their eyes. I was working so hard to earn my parents’ love that I missed the unconditional love that was right in front of me.
It was providential that my healing began in 2020, when both my paternal grandparents were still alive. As with many others, the COVID lockdowns shed a light on the ways in which I took my relationship with them for granted and so when I could, I made efforts to spend more time with them.
They still lived on their own and my grandmother spent most of her day caring for my grandfather, whose mobility issues left him in need of much assistance. He had been a carpenter. In his younger days he could build anything, but in his latter days, he often would tear up and confess that he felt a lack of purpose and regret that grandma did so much for him and he could not reciprocate.
My grandmother, though elderly herself, cared for him with a loving sacrificial attention to detail and asked for nothing from him in return. As devout Catholics they would speak of God and His Church and they would ask me about my marriage and encourage me to pray with my wife. After each of my visits filled with moments of their silent witness and tangible advice, my grandparents’ example of faithful devotion to each other after more than seventy-five years of marriage began to have an impact on me.
I give thanks to God for the living witness of my dad’s parents and the memory of the unconditional love I received from my mom’s parents that have played a crucial role in my healing journey.
When there was fire, she was water: My “Granny” by Lydia Wilson
Granny was blessed with a life that is probably impossible for anyone to live today. Every minute of her 104 years, she was surrounded by family, and was loved, and protected. At 19, she went from her parents’ loving home to marry the love of her life, my grandfather—“Poppy.” Thinking about Granny and Poppy’s love affair of almost fifty years, I think of many photos of her wearing chiffon evening gowns, seated at the Captain’s table on more cruises than anyone could count. When Poppy suddenly passed, Granny wanted to go with him. She had no money, no employable skills, little education, and her only resource was the love of her three adult children.
Life was hard for my mom and me as well. Right after Poppy died, my parents separated and divorced (with good reason) with my mother almost fleeing for her life. Dark times, yet we all endured because Granny—even though devastated by Poppy’s passing—became our North Star. While my father unnecessarily prolonged my parents’ ugly divorce, Granny provided us with a safe and loving home. There was always a carefully prepared dinner waiting for us, laughter watching “The Golden Girls,” and occasional piano playing. Even at 104, she would play the Nat King Cole classic, “Once in a While.”
My mother and Granny shared what I considered “home” for almost forty years. Granny supported my mom through earning her doctorate (the first in our family) and becoming a nationally recognized expert in her field. These milestones probably would not have been reached without Granny’s quiet service in her vocation as a mother.
As Granny declined, my mom switched roles with her as the caregiver. Eventually, Granny could only say, “I love you” and “Wonderful!” Indeed, her world was!
Secretly, I was a bit jealous of Granny’s “wonderful” life. I mentioned earlier that every minute of her 104 years, she was loved and protected. My mom and I…were not. Life seemed unfair the way God doled out an “easy life” for some, like Granny, but not for me, or my mom.
Before going to Granny’s funeral, my parish priest invited me to prepare my heart in the church before the Tabernacle. In tears, I looked up at the crucifix and thought of Jesus saying to me, “You’re jealous that Granny was loved every minute of her 104 years. Don’t you realize that you have been loved by me for over 2,000 by my cross? Before and after that, I have loved you infinitely!”
At Granny’s funeral, as my three sons hugged me, I promised them that I would be a better mother and be more like her to honor her – kind, gentle, and always loving. After all, I was named after her, so it would only be fitting.
Thinking about Granny’s life, I think about her childlike dependence on the love around her, much like St. Thérèse of Lisieux. To me, St. Thérèse had an inordinately blessed life (unlike St. Maria Goretti or St.Rita of Cascia). Both of her parents were, literally, saints, and her sisters had such loving hearts for Christ, they all went into religious life. During what was probably a luxury trip to Rome with her father, her greatest upset was that the Pope refused to allow her to become a Carmelite nun at only age 15.
Yet, when you study St. Thérèse’s life, you realize it was anything but easy. Her mother died when Thérèse was very young, leaving Thérèse bereft of Zellie’s motherly tenderness. In the convent, an older nun who Thérèse cared for was mean to Thérèse, who only wanted to serve her sisters and Christ in her “Little Way.” Thérèse died young from untreated tuberculosis.
Recently, I had the same kind of revelation about Granny’s seemingly “easy life,” too. While clearing out my garage, I came across one of Granny’s Palmer-method hand-written “thank you” notes for an insignificant gift that I could not recall. Not insignificant to Granny, however. She wrote it during a hard time when one of my uncles was having risky open-heart surgery. Her note was gracious for the love I showed her with whatever unmemorable gift I had sent. In an offhand “P.S.,” Granny wrote about the “wonderful” care my uncle was receiving in the hospital and that she was sure he would be healthy again soon.
Like Saint Thérèse, even during hardship, Granny expressed gratitude, trust and love. Maybe life was not so easy for Granny, after all? Maybe the reason why Granny had such a beautiful life was because of her childlike dependence on the unconditional love surrounding her–for 104 years, for 2,000, and infinitely, until the end of the age.
I invite you to learn more about this great woman by reading the obituary of Lydia Maria Rifice.
Prayer:
Lord God almighty,
bless our grandparents with long life, happiness, and health.
May they remain constant in your love
and be living signs of your presence
to their children and grandchildren.
We ask this through Christ our Lord.
Amen
(The above prayer was found on the USCCB website here.)
About the Authors:
Claire Scott is a wife, high school campus minister, and aspiring fantasy author living in Cincinnati, OH. She fell in love with Jesus in college while reeling from her parents’ divorce. She graduated from Purdue University in 2019 and discerned a call to serve the Church through the Echo Program at the University of Notre Dame. She graduated with a master’s in Theology in 2021 and now loves helping to form her high schoolers, write good, true, and beautiful stories, cook for her husband, Charlie, and laugh at the antics of their two cats.
Michael Monteleone lives in Toronto, Canada with his wife of twelve years and their two dogs. God has not blessed them with children, but they enjoy spending time with their large extended families that include twelve nieces and nephews. He is a late-comer to the Catholic Church, though baptized as an infant; he received his first communion at his wedding and completed his sacraments of initiation at the Easter Vigil in 2013. Since entering the Church he has served his community through several ministries including the St. Vincent de Paul Society, as his church's Baptismal Preparation coordinator and as a catechist for their OCIA, formerly RCIA, program.
Lydia Wilson is the mother of three adult sons who, like flowers in a garden, are all very different from one another, but are equally beautiful souls. She was once a fallen-away Catholic who returned to the Church “after coming to her senses.” For the past 30 years (and hopefully, counting), she is enjoying our Father’s embrace. She has also come to appreciate the gift and meaning of her maiden name of Annunziata.
Reflection Questions for Small Groups or Individuals
What role did your grandparents play, if any, in your healing journey?
What parts of these stories resonate with you, or with your life experience?
Do you see any of the saints, like Lydia, reflected in the lives of your grandparents?
What is your favorite memory of your grandparents?