Gram's Rosary

I often visited my grandparents' home. It was conveniently located next door to the house I grew up in. The logistics were not an issue.
I'd sit with my back to the rear entrance while Joe, my grandpappy, sat to my right in a fanciful dining room chair. Grams sat directly across from me. Joe's was the only such chair in the kitchen. And it was his.
Him and Grandma's bedroom was right off the kitchen. Joe and I would talk occasionally; for long periods we'd just sit in silence. I miss that silence.
Anyway, Gram would excuse herself soonly, to say her daily Rosary. Then me and Joe would just sit there.
Oh, occasionally we would talk. We mostly sat in silence. He'd puff on a cigarette, Charltons if you must know, and we'd sit.
Then he'd suddenly order me to hush, and a quiet would descend upon the room.
We would wait. Then we would hear a snore. Me Grams' snore.
"She's saying her Rosary", Joe would remark with a giggle.
They loved each other, they did.