Rock of Ages: A Letter to My Grandma Otis

Faith Passed Down, One Hymn at a Time

Hey there GenFriends!

There are some memories that live deeper than words. For me, one of them is the sound of my Grandma Otis playing the piano and singing “Rock of Ages” to me when I was a child. I didn’t realize then just how much she was pouring into me—faith, love, tradition, and strength.

As I trace our family’s history and uncover the stories of those who came before us, I find myself wishing I could speak to her again. This is the letter I would write to her if I could.

Dear Grandma Otis,

If I could sit with you today—just you and me—I’d take your hands in mine and look into your eyes, wanting to feel every bit of the life you lived. I’ve said your name so many times: Mrs. Otis Edna Vance. But to me, you’re not just a name in the records—you’re the song in my heart, the strength in my spine, the reason I keep doing this work.

I still remember you sitting at the piano, your fingers moving with grace and power. You’d play “Rock of Ages” and sing it right to me. I didn’t understand it all back then, but now I do. You were singing more than a song—you were passing down a refuge, a faith, a foundation. Those moments are stitched into my soul.

“Rock of Ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself in Thee…”
I can still hear your voice. And when I’m feeling weary or overwhelmed by the stories I uncover, I remember your voice and that hymn. It reminds me that our faith and our family have always been our strength.

You lived through times that tried the spirit. You carried burdens quietly and gave love freely. You raised your children with dignity and walked through this world with a quiet power that still echoes in me.

I wish I could ask you about your mother, Daisy Blanche Chick Tucker. I wish I could hear you tell stories about her—what she taught you, how she loved you, how you carried her lessons into your own motherhood.

Sometimes when I’m working on our family history, I feel you. When I find a document or piece together a connection, I whisper, “Thank you, Grandma Otis.” Because I know you’re nearby. I know you're guiding me.

Your love didn’t stop when your life did. It flows through me, through our family, through every page I write and every story I share.

Thank you for the music, for the strength, and for the faith you passed down. I promise to keep singing your song, telling your story, and making sure your name—and your love—lives on.

I love you. I honor you. I carry you with me. Always.

Your granddaughter,
Robin

Closing Reflection
I hope this letter speaks to someone else’s heart today. Whether you're deep in your own family history or just beginning the journey, remember—your ancestors are never far. Sometimes, they show up in the songs we remember, the names we say, the quiet moments of guidance when we’re looking for answers.

What would you say to your grandmother if you could? I’d love to hear your reflections in the comments.

With love and remembrance,
Robin

Your GenFriend & Author