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A peak into the mind of a merging woman
Well, I just got home from California this morning. A lot has been happening.
I started work in a Deli at Fry's Marketplace. stare I've also not been able to join the class for Phlebotomy. Oh well, next semester I hope.
My grandfather Harold E. Smith just died 7 days ago. So I went to California for his funeral. Left at 10pm Saturday, got there at 5am, slept until 8am Sunday morning, then turned around and came back. I left California at 7 or 8 and got here at 4am. So, what a trip!
I am not tired at all either. I slept 9 hours total since leaving Arizona.
I got to see Michelle while there. She started crying when she saw me. crying heart (I love her to pieces).
The funeral had a lot of people. Mostly bikers. Infact out of like 100 people, only 4 cars were there. 4laugh

Grandpa was a biker... I'll tell you a little about him, but not much because I didn't know him well.

He was always a pretty big man. Tall, and round. He worked for Papermate pens for a long time when he was much younger, then when I was born he owned his own mechanic shop.
He was never a stable partner for his wife, left home a lot. A free spirit. But he took care of them none the less. Eventually Grandma and him divorced and he married Thylia. She already had kids, so he adopted them. Unfortunately he did better with them than his other 6 biological family. Mostly because he had more in common. They loved motorcycles and enjoyed the traveling and riding, while his biological kids did not.
He made a lot of mistakes, but I know he learned from them eventually. He was greatly loved despite his flaws, especially by his children. But it did take them some time. Especially Joyce. I think she got over the pain the night he died, because she came to see him at the hospital before he passed.
He was pretty popular in Palmdale. He did toy runs to Tijuana, Mexico. I guess he was a kind of Santa Claus.
I remember I always thought he was.
My dad took me to see him at his shop every Christmas to donate toys, and since he worked in a "shop", was fat, jolly, and had rosey cheeks, I really thought he was Santa. I mean, he was surrounded by toys!
And in a way, he still is to me. He definitly was for the children he brought toys to for Christmas.
Even though he never related to us personally. He was still a good man. He was willing to help anyone. If you needed him, just call him.
He was onry though. A bit wild. I mean, he did ride a motorcycle.

So, thats a little about him.

R.I.P Harold Edward Smith <3 March 9, 1934 - November 25, 2008.

No farewell words
Were spoken, no time
To say good-bye;
You were gone before
We knew it and only
God knows why

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