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When my grandpa died in 2020, I wrestled with the fact that I didn't have any specific memories of him. My one recollection was waking up in the morning when my family visited him in Wisconsin and coming downstairs to the porch. Grandpa would be there sitting in his chair; he was always the first one awake. He made us hot chocolate and we'd watch TV. And every time we came over we'd find Junior Mints under our pillows.
I thought I should feel sadder than I did when he died. But I think I needed to have more grace with myself since in reality I only saw him a couple of times a year. It comforted me to play a small role in his funeral. I made a graphite portrait based off a photo of him kayaking that was set up in the front of the church.
Grandpa was a lifelong Catholic. His six children, one of whom is my mom, are all some branch of protestant/evangelical/non-Catholic Christian, whichever term floats your boat. They were all raised Catholic but all converted for one reason or another. I heard my mom tell the story once but I don't know enough of it to repeat it here, and it's not really my story to tell.
Because grandpa was Catholic, he had a Catholic funeral. That was my first time going to Mass. I had no intentions of becoming Catholic then, but as many of my faithful readers know, I converted in 2024.
I wanted a way to remember grandpa and figured at the time that whenever I ran, biked, skied, or spent time in the outdoors, he was there with me. Grandpa was an avid outdoorsman, in fact, he biked his last 30 miles within a month before dying from cancer. Interestingly, he passed on Oct. 22, the feast day of Pope St. John Paul II, who was also known to be an avid outdoorsman.
Doctors had told that 89-year-old man he had the body of a 60 year old, according to my mom. If cancer hadn't stopped him, he'd have lived to at least 110 by my own estimation.
My grandma lived in their old house for a few years after he died. My Mom's family eventually moved her into retirement living and decided to sell their house. That was bittersweet because so many great memories were created there, and it’s a unique house. There is a balcony on the second floor opening out into the living room and skylights in the ceiling. The openness of the house made it very loud when a lot of people were over, which was often. I distinctly remember the fireplace mantel where there were seven wedding photos set up, one of my grandparents and six of all their children and their spouses.
When my grandma moved out, my mom's family went through my grandparents’ things before selling or giving away the rest. I believe my mom was one of the last to look through the house. Of all the final pickings, she found a Miraculous Medal on my grandpa's old desk. She came home and gave it to me.
The Miraculous Medal is a devotional item that was given to St. Catherine Laboure in a vision of Mary in 1830. Mary told St. Catherine, "Have a medal struck after this model. All who wear it will receive great graces, they should wear it around the neck. Graces will abound for persons who wear it with confidence."
She didn't have to pick up that medal, but she did. I was in OCIA at the time, which is the class that adult converts take before officially becoming Catholic, which means being baptized for some, and receiving communion and confirmation.
When I wear the Miraculous Medal now, I feel as though I have a purpose to carry on the traditions of the Catholic faith that skipped a generation.
The gift of that medal gave me a second thing to remember Grandpa by, and in some ways to grieve a second time. I never got to discuss being Catholic with Grandpa while he was here on Earth, but what a joy it would have been. I hope we will have that conversation one day on the other side of the veil.