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  • I look at the Mountains,
    and I'm reminded of you.
    Do you remember that time when,
    well of course you do.

    Right now you are watching,
    watching from above.
    As I live my life,
    with not near enough love.

    These mountains, however,
    remind me not only of you.
    But other memories as well,
    mostly old, and very little new.

    I think about all those summers,
    stacking wood and playing games.
    We ran through the sprinkler,
    and shouted each others names.

    We went horseback riding,
    and to that place called Virginia City.
    We'd go to the candy store and spend too much money,
    then we'd walk out and sarcastically say, "Oh what a pity."

    I love those memories I have of you,
    I know in my heart I'll never forget.
    That time, I know, I'll never get again,
    I know that the time, however, is set.

    Memories are truly a wonderful thing. The picture and the poem represent my grandpa that died two years ago, as well as Montana. Every summer I would spend two weeks in Montana with my grandparents. My grandma had to work, so I spent a lot of time with Grandpa.

    He was a selfless man. When he loved, he loved fully and completely. He was nice to most everyone and you just wanted to always be around him. His life should be remembered and we should learn how to act the way he did.

    A long, 12 hour drive, to and from Montana is what happened every summer. When we finally saw the mountains, we knew we were close. Whenever we got in the car while we were there, we would see the mountains. Sometimes we would drive into them and they would get closer. Sometimes, as we drove, they would get farther and farther away.

    Memories are and will always be something sacred to hold on to. Grandpa is in heaven, looking down on me. I have the memory of his life and his love, close to my heart.
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