Today we lay to release the ashes of a loving father, brother, and friend. Harold was a wonderful addition to all of our lives and we will celebrate his passing in the name of the Lord. Harold was 76 years old and born in Central America. He passed away Tuesday, April 26, 2018, in his Los Angeles home.
Born on July 16, 1942, in Belize City, Belize, Harold was the second of seven children born to Jacob and Bertha Andrewin. As a young man, he was a hardworking and independent soul. They lived briefly in San Bernardino before moving to Rialto. Once they were settled in Rialto and decided to make this their home, they bought their first home at 801 North Lilac in 1965 where they resided until moving to Los Angeles in 2012. There are so many memories in this home over the 47 years for family and friends. Harold will be remembered for his kind actions in the community and his impact on the many lives he has touched throughout the years.
Bud is a true man of service. He has served as Vice Chairman for Parks and Recreation Commission, and member of the East Los Angeles Youth Club. He was a member of the School Board for five years, serving as president the last two years. His heart has been at the Baseball field where he spent his time as coach, President, Vice-President and Board member for Los Angeles Western Little League. His service and dedication to the youth of Los Angeles will forever be honored in our community, standing by his side and his family behind him. Harold is gone but his memory will live on through his children and grandchildren.
Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I do not die.
By: Mary Frye