Twelve years have passed since the death of my grandfather Leroy F. Ward. His birthday was this past weekend. He would of be 91. He was born in the 1920 in Thermal California. He moved to the Siskiyou country which is in the northern part of California. He was a logger, teacher's aid and a bus driver for the local high school called Happy Camp where my grandmother still lives currently.
He served in World War II from 1942 to 1946. I remember him telling me stories about shoot the japanese and other horror stories about war. He was a charter and life member of the VFW Post in Happy Camp. He enjoyed fishing and hunting. Watching his grandchildren grown.
My best memory I have of my grandfather was when I was a child. Each summer our parents would sent two or three of us kids to spent time with our grandparents. Well my grandfather would take us to the local dump with him to unload the trash or other junk we no longer needed. I remember there was brown bears there. It was the first time I ever saw a bear in my life. My grandfather brought some sandwiches with us. After we unloaded the brown truck, we sat there eating our sandwiches and tossing a few chunks to them. The time I spent with him bonding over nature and bears made me love him even more. Taking the time to talk to me about the things in nature and about the life he was lived and not to talk things lightly. To fight for what I believe in and that I can become whatever I wanted.
I miss him deeply. There are times I want to call him up and ask for advice or for one more bear hugs. One last kung fu kick from him, or a lift up. My grandfather was 6'6'.
I alway think about you Grandpa Leroy.
