Steven & Ashlee Simons

My Papa died on New Years Eve. He was born in Indiana in 1913 to Floy and Robert Bloomer. His mother died when he was 18 months old and his father died when he was 8 from Tuberculous. He grew up with his grandma and grandpa Bloomer and joined the navy to serve on the USS Arizona. He married my grandmother after they met at a dance in Southern California and I remember my grandmother telling me she knew he was the one because she "felt so safe in his arms." They had two children, my father and my aunt Linda who died a few years before my grandmother did. He was a Los Angles Fire Fighter at station 48 in Harbor, California. He and my grandmother loved to fish and would send many a' summers at the Clamith River in Northern California. He loved his suburban that this last summer I caught him sitting in on my parents property in Utah. He told me he paid $5,000.00 for it and it had been such a joy to own it with my grandma.




This is probably the closest person that I have had pass away. He drove himself to the hospital on Dec. 18th and never left. Yes that is right, drove. Papa lived by himself and drove up until two weeks of his death. He even had a girl friend that he would take to a local Chines restaurant and to the monthly pot luck. This sums up the last few years of his life. He would visit my parents in Utah, dated, and walked around his block all the time. He never missed a doctors appointment, probably because he loved to socialize. He was such a great example of loving life right up to 95.

But I must say we sent him off in style. He had the navy honor him and station 48 in Los Angles sent a rig to his grave side funeral. My sisters and I got a bag piper to come and play amazing grace, one of his favorite songs. It was more a present for my grandma and grandpa.





I felt a great sense of loss as I spent the weekend in California. All of the Christmases spent at their home, all the hugs and kisses they would give us are now memories that my children wont know. As we cleaned their home out, my grandmother left notes in everything important. Like Great, great grandma and grandpa Bloomer's silver tea cup given to them on their 25th wedding anniversary in 1904. Many more notes were found and made me think of how special grandma really was. I came home and pined notes on the things that were important to me in my life. Even if I never keep a journal, I will remember how my grandparents left a legacy of love, frugality, charity, and were always thinking of others. Why else would you leave notes for others to find when you weren't going to be there to tell them? I hope on the night of New Years Eve my grandfather knew just how loved he was when he was reunited with a mother he never knew, a father he last saw 88 years ago, a wife he loved for 67 years, and a multitude of heavenly hosts that were so happy to see him once again. I hope that when I die that I am as loved and honored as my grandfather was.