Anne and Lui
Beloved Grandparents

My grandparents weren’t the type to give frivolous gifts, and I don’t recall hearing them say, “I love you” to me or anyone else. They came from a time when such things weren’t said out loud – but were communicated through action. It was a time when people listened to what you did more than to what you said.

Every time I entered their home from my youngest days to the times of their deaths, my grandparents warmly welcomed me with a kiss and hug. Their house in Southern Maryland on the Patuxent River became a magical playground for all us Granados grandkids, with walks on the beach, fishing, swimming, eating steamed crabs we’d caught that morning, and teasing Grandma before dinner.

No one teased Granddaddy. He was no nonsense; his most common phrase being “Stop that foolishness!” He worked hard, couldn’t tolerate laziness or disrespect, didn’t like a lot of talking (unless it was him talking), loved to fish, loved to remember his childhood in Spain and loved my grandmother.

Grandma had a charm bracelet that had thirty sterling silver charms, one for each grandchild. Each charm – a heart for a girl, circle for a boy – had the name and birth year of a grandchild. Grandma would wear this at every family function and we’d love to rush up to her, finger through the charms and find our names, reminding us that we were somebody, a part of her special world.

On the day of his or her baptism, every grandchild received a sterling silver cup from Grandma and Granddaddy engraved with the baptismal name. They produced a gift for every child at Christmas and sent each of us $2 on our birthday ($1 from Grandma and $1 from Granddaddy). Though the amount of the gift (which was started on my brother Ricky’s first birthday in 1949) never increased, the tradition continued until the youngest grandchild was in her twenties.

I can remember rushing out to the mailbox on my 19th birthday to see if the card carrying the same signature “with love from Grandma and Granddaddy” would be in the box with my $2 enclosed… and of course, it was. How difficult that had to be. I wonder if my grandparents knew how much their $2 token was worth to the grandchildren who waited to be remembered.

We never went on vacation. We went to our grandparents’ house. A few of us would get the privilege of spending a week there in the summer, which was heaven. My best memories of childhood are at that house, spending time with my large family, eating gazpacho and crabs in the summer, talking to Grandma after dinner while she cleaned the kitchen. When we’d leave her house, she always waited by the door until our car pulled out of sight.

I always hated to leave that house. There was something there that I hated to be pulled away from. I didn’t realize that the “something” was them, until after they passed away.

I miss them every day. I don’t know if their pictures over my fireplace make the ache of their absence better or worse. These were not grandparents that showered me with presents, treated me special, imparted great wisdom, or spoke of their love for me – yet I would testify they were superior, and I’d wish for no other.

Their great gift was rendering a sense of belonging. We were all claimed by them to be a part of their family, a part of their world, with a place – though shared by many – a unique place in their hearts. They remembered us … and we will spend the rest of our days remembering them, Anne and Lui – beloved grandparents.

Anne and Lui (pictured here Easter 1990) were married for 65 years.  Lui was born in Cuba, and came from Spain with his mother and three sisters in 1910.  Anne was born Riverdale, Maryland and lived there all of her life until Lui retired and they moved to their home in St. Mary's County, MD.  Read more about Lui and Anne at the Granados Family Website.