Wedding Speech for Grandson: What to Say as Grandma or Grandpa

Hello everyone. I’m Remedios, but to Marco I’ve always been Lola Remy—his grandmother. I want to thank Priya’s parents, Anil and Meera, for this beautiful day, and all our family who traveled so far, especially from Manila and Cebu. It means a lot to see so many faces from near and far here to celebrate Priya and Marco.

Marco is my daughter Teresa’s son, and I was lucky to spend so much time with him growing up. From kindergarten until sixth grade, every day after school he came straight to my house in Daly City while his parents were working at the hospital. He was the chattiest boy—always narrating everything he did. “Lola, now I am washing my hands!” or “Lola, I need a second bowl of rice—for energy.” I think he thought rice was a superpower.

Marco was always curious, always talking, and always hungry. Some things never change—except now, he’s a physical therapist and gives advice that people actually want to hear. He’s calmer now, but sometimes I do miss my little chatterbox. Except at 7 a.m. That, I don’t miss.

Some of my favorite memories are from Christmas Eve, our Noche Buena. Marco insisted on helping me roll lumpia, even when he was seven and made them so big we called them Marco burritos. We fried them anyway. I think the secret ingredient was always laughter. When I broke my hip, ten years ago, Marco took the bus every day after school just to help me with my exercises at the hospital. I could tell he had a gentle heart, even then.

Priya, from the first Sunday lunch you came to, you fit right in. You ate three helpings of my pancit and asked for the recipe. The next week I got a photo of your pancit—too salty, yes, but you laughed at my honesty. That’s when I knew you were family. Anyone who can take a little teasing from Lola Remy is going to do just fine around here.

I was married to Marco’s Lolo Ben for 49 years. Every single morning he brought me coffee, even when we were still mad from the night before. My advice to you both: don’t let pride sit at the breakfast table. Make the coffee anyway. Sometimes, that’s all you need to start again.

Priya and Marco, I love how calm you are together. He cooks, she plans, and on Sundays they call me together and argue—sweetly—over who gets to tell me what happened that week. Priya, welcome to our family. You are my granddaughter now, too.

I know Lolo Ben is watching today, probably wishing he could teach Priya to fish off the Pacifica pier and save her a dance. We miss him, but his love is here in all of us.

My wish for you both: a home where everybody is fed and nobody leaves without a container of leftovers. May you always find something to laugh about, even when the pancit is too salty, and remember—never skip the second bowl of rice.

(Raise your glass) To Marco and Priya—cheers to a long, happy, well-fed life together.

Good evening, everyone. For those who haven’t had the pleasure, I’m Winston, Andre’s granddad. I’m also the one who spent most Saturdays trying to keep up with a certain cheeky young lad who never ran out of questions—mostly, “Why?” Sometimes before I’d even had a cup of tea. Now he’s a teacher, so I suppose that's what they call poetic justice.

Andre is Delroy’s boy, through and through. I remember when he was eight, he set up a little shop on our front wall and started selling my own tomatoes from my allotment—back to me! Twenty pence each, and yes, I paid. He spent every penny on sweets for his nan, Pearl. I suppose business genius runs in the family, even if it’s mostly at my expense.

Then along came Sophie. The first time she came to Sunday dinner, she asked for seconds of Pearl’s curry goat and then had the nerve to beat me at dominoes. To this day, Andre has never beaten me fair and square. I should have known then that Sophie was special—brave, smart, and clearly, a very fast learner.

Pearl and I have been married 54 years. If I’ve learned anything, it’s this: say sorry first, even when you’re sure you’re right. Especially then. It’s kept the peace and saved me from a lot of cold dinners. You two might want to write that down.

Sophie, you’re our granddaughter now. Keep a domino set on the kitchen table, never sell your grandad his own tomatoes, and always say sorry first. And Andre, keep asking questions, but maybe let Sophie have the last word sometimes.

Thanks to Karen and Steve for making us all feel so welcome today.

(Raise your glass) To Sophie and Andre—may your life together be full of laughter, quick apologies, and never-ending seconds of curry goat. Cheers!