Grandpa

written by my oldest daughter

This is a story of when I was only three.
We lived in a town called Nevada, Missouri.
We lived  next to Grandma and Grandpa on a
small piece of land.
I was playing, one day, in my little box of
sand.
Suddenly my mom came to the door, her eyes
wide and blue.
Frozen, she stared, knowing not what to do
I looked all around to see what could be
wrong.
There was a cotton-head stretched out on
the lawn.
It was lying close to where I played,
only about two feet.
I jumped up and ran.  My throat caught
a scream.
I didn't stop running until I reached
the barn.
All I could say was "snake" as I tugged
Grandpa's arm.
He grabbed a hoe and I led the way.
I knew with him there, that things
would be ok.
The garden hoe came down and off came
his head.
He said,"It's ok, my brown-eyed angel,
that bad snake is dead."
He picked me up and hugged me tight to
his chest.
Throwing my arms around his neck, I
said,
"Grandpa, you're the best!"
That's the first memory I have of my
life,
It was of my grandpa making things
right.
That's how my grandpa lived most
of his days.
He had a way of making our problems
seem to go away.
I'll always remember his chuckle,
his smile, his eyes so blue,
His love for Jesus, to Him my
grandpa was always true.
As we laid my sweet grandpa to
rest this year,
I knew he'd never be here again to
dry my tears.
That's ok, together we'll be with
our Lord some day.
And he's still in my heart, where
he'll always stay.