A Porch Moment for the Ones Left Out of the Picture
Every so often, messages come in from grandmothers and grandfathers who are carrying a very particular kind of heartbreak.
It isn’t the grief of losing a grandchild.
It’s the ache of never really getting to know them.
They write things like:
- “My grandbabies grew up without me. I’m still alive, but I’ve been erased.”
- “They’ve heard so many negative stories about me that they don’t even want to visit.”
- “I buy Christmas presents and then put them back in the closet, because I don’t even know where they live now.”
If that sounds familiar, this Porch Moment is for you.
Pull up a rocking chair. Let’s talk about loving grandbabies you hardly ever see.
This Kind of Grief Has No Funeral
When a relationship dies slowly instead of suddenly, there’s no funeral, no casseroles, no community rituals to mark the loss.
You may still see photos online.
Maybe you hear a story second-hand from a cousin: “Oh, the kids are getting so big.”
And you nod and smile, but inside, something twists. Because you missed the first lost tooth, the school concert, the silly phase where they mispronounce words and it’s adorable.
You didn’t get to be the safe house, the cookie-stop, the lap they crawled into when the world felt too big.
That is real grief, even if no one around you names it.
You’re mourning:
- the birthdays you weren’t invited to
- the little arms that never learned the shape of your hug
- the family photos where your chair at the table is empty
And on top of grief, there’s often a layer of shame: If I had been better… if I had done something different… maybe my own child wouldn’t have shut the door.
Let me say this clearly, porch-to-porch:
Someone else’s choice to withhold relationship does not mean you were unworthy of love.
You may not have been perfect—none of us are—but erasing a grandparent is about their wounds, their story, and sometimes their control. It is not a fair measure of your value.
When the Story They Heard About You Isn’t True
Many grandparents write about being painted as “the problem”:
- “They were told I was crazy.”
- “They were told I was dangerous, dramatic, toxic.”
- “They grew up with one side of the story and no chance to see for themselves.”
Children often believe the adults who raise them. That’s not because the children are cruel; it’s because they’re loyal, and loyalty is one of the most beautiful human traits.
The hard part is this: that same loyalty that makes them good kids can also stand between you and them for a season.
If that’s your reality, here are a few truths to hold close:
- You don’t have to spend your life on trial.
You are a whole person, not a case to argue. Sometimes the most dignified thing you can do is quietly live your life with integrity and let time reveal what words cannot. - You’re allowed to protect your own heart.
There’s a difference between keeping a porch light on and standing out in the storm, banging on a locked door. You can hold love for them and pull back from situations that shred your nerves. - The story isn’t finished yet.
Children grow. They ask questions. One day, those grandbabies may be adults who are curious about their roots. You don’t know when the page might turn.
What Do You Do With Love That Has Nowhere To Go?
This is the question that keeps people up at night.
You’ve got all this love with no little heads to pat and no small hands to slip cookies to. So what now?
Here are some gentle ideas—not “fixes,” just ways to give that love somewhere to land:
1. Create a Quiet Love-Archive
Even if you never get to hand it to them, you can leave a trail.
- Keep a Grandma Journal: once a week or once a month, write a short note as if you were talking directly to them—what you’re cooking, a funny story from the garden, a blessing over their life.
- Print a few photos of your own world—where you live, your porch, your dog—and tuck them in.
If the day comes when they want to know you, you’ll have something real to put in their hands: “I loved you all along. Here’s proof.”
2. Bless Them From a Distance
Love is not limited by miles or by decisions you didn’t get to make.
You can:
- whisper their names in prayer
- light a candle and speak a blessing over them
- imagine them surrounded by wise teachers, good friends, and protection
You may never see with your eyes what those blessings stirred, but speaking goodness over them changes you too. It keeps your heart from hardening.
3. Let Your Grandparent Heart Spill Over to Others
That tenderness in you doesn’t have to wither just because it can’t go where you wanted it to.
You might:
- read at the library’s children’s hour
- “adopt” a lonely college kid at church who’s far from home
- become the extra auntie for a neighborhood child who needs a safe adult
- show love to a child at church that might be coming without parents and needs support.
This isn’t “replacing” your own grandchildren—it’s letting your gift of nurture breathe instead of keeping it locked away.
Grieving the Dream Without Giving Up on Joy
There’s a picture in many hearts: grandbabies running in the yard, little shoes by the door, messy crafts at the kitchen table. When life doesn’t match that picture, it’s natural to feel robbed.
Sometimes it helps to:
- cry in the shower
- feel angry at the unfairness
- have days where you’re just plain tired of being the one left out
And never feel guilty to build a life that holds beauty alongside the ache.
That looks like:
- planting a garden because watching things grow soothes you
- brewing yourself a cup of tea and sitting on the porch at sunset just because it’s pretty
- laughing with a friend on the phone even on a day you also miss your grandbabies
Grief and gladness can sit at the same table. One doesn’t cancel the other out.
If You Ever Do Get a Second Chance
Sometimes, doors open a little later in life. A grown grandchild might message you. You might run into them at a family gathering. You might be asked, “Can we talk?”
If that day comes, a few gentle suggestions:
- Lead with warmth, not a courtroom.
“I’ve missed you. I’m glad you’re here,” goes farther than, “Let me tell you what really happened.” - Answer what they ask, not what you wish they’d ask.
Young adults can get overwhelmed by too much history all at once. Give small, true pieces at a time. - Be the soft place, not more drama.
They may already be carrying a heavy load of family conflict. Let your presence feel like shade on a hot day.
And if that day never comes?
You are still worthy of love. You are still a whole, valuable human being with a purpose that goes beyond any role—mother, grandmother, wife, daughter. Those are parts of you, not the sum total.
A Porch Blessing For the Grandmothers on the Outside
Let me speak this over you like we’re sitting on the porch swing, listening to the evening settle in:
May you know, down in your bones, that you were made to love and be loved, and nothing that was said about you behind closed doors can rewrite that truth.
May your hands find good work to do—gardens to tend, stories to write, people to comfort—so your heart has somewhere gentle to pour itself out.
May the grandbabies who carry your blood be surrounded by protection, kindness, and wisdom, whether or not they ever knock on your door.
And may you feel, even in the quiet of your own kitchen, that you are not truly alone. There are more hearts like yours than you know, rocking on more porches than you can see. May you be honored for your heart that only seeks to offer love.
If you enjoy stories like this, you’ll love the other life lessons & memories I’m sharing on The Appalachian Sage. …………And if you’re ever in the mood to browse something pretty, you can stop by my Etsy shop, The Appalachian Sage Shop, where I pour the same love and kindness into each design.