My Grandma

As far back as I can see, my Grandma meant the world to me. Always with a treat, even just a simple cookie.
As I grew she always knew what bothered me, she appeared with loving kisses and hugs from out of no where.
When my daughter was born she became her joy and pride.
Then God came and took her away, in grief my daughter screamed an awful fright for even though we lived miles away and she was only two somehow she knew.
I had a feeling she would not leave daughter alone.
A picture of a mountain they had hung since I was young that always gave me peace and tranquility was given to me.
When I put the painting on our own wall, being two my daughter looked at me and said to me easily
"Grandma was very happy"